Refracted
by Three-Eyed Squirrels
Summary: AU. A stranger's mistake sets in motion a plot that could destroy all the D'ni have worked for. Follows the Revelation bad ending from a moment on Serenia to wherever this new dark path may lead.
1. Hesitation

The woman stood in front of the control panel, her hand waving back and forth over the two levers. Her eyes darted from Sirrus to Achenar and back to the panel, but still she did nothing.

"Look, we have to set everybody's memories back right again," Achenar said as calmly as he could. "The amber lever. Turn the amber lever to begin the process."

The woman took a deep breath and nodded. She rested her hand on the amber lever.

"No!" Sirrus shouted, which immediately made Achenar swing the crossbow around to face him again. "You'll kill me if you do that!"

She paused.

"Hurry!" Achenar ordered. "Before the memory chamber gets too weak to power the transfer!"

"Don't listen to him!"

The woman was looking all over now, at the ceiling, at the chair in the far corner, then back down at the panel. She was shaking her head and breathing fast, and her hands were touching neither lever now. They were waving in the air, one hand momentarily resting on her forehead, then tugging on a lock of hair that had fallen into her face.

She looked at the amber lever again.

"No!" Sirrus leaned forward in the chair, meeting the eyes of the stranger. And that made the woman hesitate even further, much to Sirrus' annoyance. This woman was all the more irritating in person than she had been in all the times father mentioned her to Sirrus.

"Trust me, use the amber lever."

"No, you'll kill me! Use the silver one, now!"

"Amber!"

"The silver one!"

Achenar made a mistake then, stepping forward to point at the amber lever, trying to make the stranger's task easier. It brought his crossbow in range of Sirrus' hand.

Sirrus glanced at the bow and then back at the stranger. The woman was shaking his head even more, hands darting from one lever to another but not pulling either one. There wasn't _time _for this!

"No."

"You really have to trust me," Achenar pleaded at the woman. "This is not my little sister, we're running out of…"

It was quite a convincing speech, Sirrus thought. Achenar really was concerned. Achenar did care about dear Yeesha and…and Sirrus saw the woman look at Achenar and tilt her head to the side, and Achenar nodded. The woman still hesitated, but it seemed was getting closer to a decision…

That simply couldn't be allowed.

Sirrus leaned forward, his hand pulling the crossbow from Achenar. There was barely enough time for Achenar to say anything before Sirrus fired the crossbow, and the arrow struck Achenar in the back, sending him staggering a few paces forward.

A strangled sound escaped the woman when he saw Achenar fall.

"Sirrus…" Achenar fell to his knees and turned around, looking up at his brother. His hand reached forward, clutching the bottom of the chair. He looked up, and Sirrus thought for a moment his foolish older brother was trying to find some vestiges of Yeesha left in this body. Terribly sorry, brother. Once I am free from this chair, you won't be able to find anything of Yeesha again.

"Never could control yourself, could you, dear brother?" Sirrus whispered.

Achenar didn't have a response to that, though he was trying desperately to formulate one. A raspy sound escaped Achenar's throat, another attempt at speech, which Sirrus ignored. It wasn't worth it, trying to decipher his brother's garbled words at the moment of his death.

Sirrus turned from the body of his brother to look back at the woman. She was backed up against the wall, seemingly unable to take her eyes from Achenar's body. Her face was white as chalk.

"Unfortunately," Sirrus continued conversationally. "He proved to be more intelligent than I anticipated."

The woman finally tore her gaze away from the body to look at Sirrus.

"No matter. I won't insult you by demanding that you let me go now. I'm sure Father will be along soon. Having one more dead body around will only make my performance as Yeesha that much more convincing. At least until he finishes teaching me the Art."

"He won't believe you," She finally said. Her voice was shaking, but she didn't look away from Sirrus. "I've known Atrus for more than twenty years, and Yeesha her entire life. I don't care how good of an actor you are, you'll never convince them. Atrus will know it's not Yeesha. He's never going to teach you."

"Perhaps," Sirrus said, lifting the crossbow. "And if he does?"

She didn't say anything.

"He won't," the stranger finally said, and she sounded completely sure of herself. "I know it."

Sirrus was tired of this, and he fired the crossbow a second time.

This arrow hit the woman squarely in the chest. The blood sprayed against the panel and the levers, and she collapsed onto the floor.

"And if he does," Sirrus coolly informed the stranger's body. "I'll dedicate an Age to you, then, to honor your foolishness and your hesitation which enabled me to become master of a thousand worlds."

No one answered him, and for the first time in twenty years, this didn't bother him.

* * *

Yannin was in charge, as usual, of watching the harvester.

She knew it wouldn't be good to complain. Protectors didn't complain…they did the task they were given, and they did it to the best of their abilities. It was honor enough to attain the status of Protector at all, and since she was the youngest Protector, it made sense that they would give her the menial task of watching the harvester while the others handled the crisis.

No. It was not a menial task. It was _not. _There was only one harvester left now after the first was destroyed, and that was, in a way, Yannin's fault. She should have been watching that one more carefully, she should have been around when it happened, she should have stopped the person who destroyed it, she should have _seen _this the last time she Dreamt. But she didn't.

The other Sisters weren't very happy about that. They didn't directly blame Yannin, but it was obvious by Zanika's disapproving look that she should have been more cautious and aware.

Yannin sighed and rested her elbows on the rail, staring at the harvester. Much of the water was removed from this particular chamber, and that stranger who she met a few days ago was the one who did it. But she knew that the stranger would, and so did the other Sisters, so as much as they didn't _like _the idea of a stranger playing around with their harvester, they let her do it. Anya informed Yannin that she would and she had to, since it was going to be vital to stopping the crisis. But she had done her task and was now somewhere else, and Yannin was in charge of watching to make sure nothing else happened with the harvester.

"And until that stranger comes out," Anya had said. "Then you must talk to her and bring her to me immediately."

Well, she didn't see anyone for the past hour. And the harvester looked safe. And this was…well, _boring._

Anya guarded the active memory chamber. Moiri and Raeane were Dreaming. Zanika had been helping the stranger…she told Yannin the day before that she had to be the one to show her into Dream. And Caradell was alerting the village.

All those were interesting, active tasks. That left Yannin, the youngest, to watching the harvester.

But she wouldn't complain. Absolutely _wouldn't. _It was boring but it was necessary. And she should be glad that they accepted her into the Sisterhood as young as she was, so naturally her tasks, while important, weren't going to be as active as the other Sisters. And the collecting of memory globes had been her task in the first place And that was _that._

Still. She was bored. She didn't like being bored.

Zanika said it was because she was a Child of Fire, "which often leads to impatience in younger Protectors," Zanika said to her, voice tinged by years of wisdom and experience. Yannin sometimes got the impression that she was the only one who tolerated Yannin and was the driving force in allowing her into the Sisterhood.

Anya probably didn't like her. She was sure Caradell didn't. She didn't know about Raeane or Moiri yet, and…

_Yannin, you're not six anymore. You're all Protectors, all Sisters together. It's immature to spend time thinking about whether or not the other Sisters like you. If they all didn't, they wouldn't have let you in._

Sometimes Yannin wondered, though. Sometimes she felt six, especially when Caradell was talking to her. Yannin wished she could be wiser like them, patient as them…which she knew came with time, but still.

There was a movement from the path to her left. Yannin stood up straight and adjusted her amulet, looking attentive and pretending that she never looked anything but.

"Protector!"

Instead of one of the Sisters, a girl came barreling around the corner. Her hair was blond and tightly braided, and her dress was clean and washed. Yannin had only seen her a few times, but knew her immediately.

"Yeesha! Child, what's wrong?"

Yeesha was mostly Anya's charge, since they were both children of water. She was even younger than Yannin and from a place other than Serenia, yet she managed to earn the respect of all the other Protectors.

Yannin knelt down and opened her arms, and Yeesha flung herself into them and buried her head in Yannin's shoulder. Yannin wanted to immediately ask what was wrong, but for the first time in her life, decided to wait. Maybe that was what the Sisters meant about patience. Instead she wrapped her arms around Yeesha and stroked her hair.

Yeesha wasn't crying. She was just standing there with her cheek on Yannin's shoulder and her hair getting up Yannin's nose.

"Yeesha, what happened?" Yannin asked after five minutes passed.

"My brother," she said into Yannin's shoulder.

"What about him?"

"He's dead,"

This startled Yannin so much that she gripped Yeesha's shoulder and held her out in front of her, eyes wide. Yeesha didn't meet her gaze…she just stared at the floor and kept one hand around Yannin's wrist.

"My brother and my father's friend. Both of them, in the old memory chamber. Please come quickly!"

Yannin stood up, breath coming fast. In the front of her mind was shock and a little bit of panic…two people, both strangers to Serenia, dead in the same day? How was that possible? But in the back of her mind was a faint, tingling excitement…something was _happening, _and Yannin was at the center of it.

"Why come to me, Yeesha? You were always so close to Anya,"

Yeesha looked at the sky this time and reached one hand to her hair, looking to run her fingers through it, but then realizing it was braided and letting her hand fall to her side again. "Anya…I did not know where she was. With all that happened, I knew I had to find one of the Sisters, and you were the first that I found. It is very urgent, please, I need you to come immediately."

Yannin hadn't known Yeesha as well as Anya did, or she would have noticed the odd, formal way Yeesha was speaking.

"I'll come." Yannin held her hand out.

Yeesha took her hand and led Yannin down the path…down the other path…and then in the direction of the old memory chamber.

"Why would anyone be here?" Yannin asked. "The chamber hasn't been used for a long time now. It's too dangerous to go in there."

"I do not know," Yeesha replied. "It was not my idea. I was only brought here by Achenar…I did not know what he wanted at first, only that it was something terrible!"

It wasn't that far to the old memory chamber. Yeesha led her to the door and pushed it open, and Yannin followed her inside.

The memory chamber was dark, and the sunlight filtering in through an opening near the top was the only thing that gave any light. It smelled old and musty, and that made Yannin stop. No one had been in this chamber for years because it had gotten so old, and the memory chambers were deadly when they were old…

"It's safe," Yeesha said, tugging on Yannin's hand again. Yannin was still reluctant, but Yeesha just came from here so she would know better. She followed her up the stairs, and then…

Yannin stepped back in the doorway, covering her mouth and nose with her hands. She was closest to the stranger, who had fallen near a panel with two levers, an arrow embedded in her chest. The other was close to a chair, and the arrow was in his back.

She had seen this before.

They all had.

It was the first time that all the Protectors were shown the same possibilities at the same time. While normally there were thousands of future possibilities, for the past few days, there had been only three. And all three of them ended in the death of two people, both who weren't Serenian. The ancestors never showed who it was who died. They never gave names or faces. Yannin had asked her spirit guide why, as it seemed wholly absurd…if they knew the names and faces, they could see how events would pan out and warn those who had to be warned. But her spirit guide said it was the business of the Protectors right now to guide, and it was not their place to decide. The final task, they said, lie in the hands of that stranger.

"Oh, by the Ancestors," Yannin whispered. "Yeesha…"

Yeesha didn't step through the door. She just clung to Yannin's hand, holding it so tight it was almost painful.

"Yeesha, you need to tell me what happened," Yannin said, forcing her voice to stay calm and steady.

"I was at home," Yeesha began, clutching Yannin's hand tighter, and her voice was every bit as quavery and uncertain as Yannin's was calm. "And I was…I was…going to see my fath—dad's friend for something, because we've been friends for quite a long time. But then when I was leaving my room, I heard someone come in…and…and it was Achenar!" with this, Yeesha promptly burst into tears. Yannin knelt back down and pulled Yeesha into another hug. "And he…he…he…took me here," Yeesha said between sobs. "And he had this chair…and…and he tied me to it. He said all sorts of awful things to me…about what he wanted to do…he was going…to…to…"

"Shh," Yannin said soothingly. "Don't worry. You don't have to tell me everything now."

"I do," Yeesha sniffed. "Because…because it was so horrible! He said that he was going to put me in Dream forever and steal my body to learn how to write Ages from fa—dad! And he almost did. He was going to kill me!" Yeesha's sobs renewed for a moment before she calmed down enough to finish. "But then she came to save me," she pointed to the stranger. "But Achenar didn't want that to happen and then he _shot _her. Then Achenar was going to turn the chair on and kill me except she got shot by him…and then they were both dead and I don't know what to do! She was my best friend! And…and Achenar was my brother! How could he do that to me?"

Yannin didn't have an answer for that, so she didn't say anything at all.

"We have to find Anya," she said after a time when Yeesha had calmed down. "She'll know what to do."

Yeesha nodded, fiddling with her necklace.

They left the old chamber, and Yannin was never more thankful to be in open air than now. Death always walked hand in hand with everyone in Serenia. It was a neighbor, a friend, a guardian. It was nothing to be feared. But this was not the same death that touched the hands of the Protectors and showed them infinite possibilities and distinct certainties while in Dream. This was murder, madness, some terrible happening brought by those from another world into one of Serenia's most sacred places.

Yannin was nineteen, the youngest Protector, not in the Sisterhood more than six months. She didn't know what to do. She didn't know why they accepted her if all she could do was lose her head at the first sign of a crisis and go running to Anya or Zanika or someone who _knew _what they were doing.

"What's wrong?" Yeesha asked.

Yannin shook her head. Perceptive child, she was. Anya was always so proud to have her as a fellow child of water.

"Are you afraid?" Yeesha asked again, trotting to keep up with Yannin's brisk pace.

"No," Yannin lied, giving Yeesha's hand a squeeze. They followed the path down to the newer memory chamber, and Yannin took a moment of solace in its familiarity and peace.

She rapped three times on the door. "Anya?" she called softly.

Nothing. Anya was probably Dreaming.

"Who is it?" Anya said, what felt like years later.

"Yannin. And Yeesha."

The door opened a crack, and Anya's curious face peered out. She was the second youngest, but was still Yannin's senior by at least eight years. Anya glanced at both of them, then gestured for Yannin to follow her inside. She shook her head at Yeesha, and the girl nodded, leaning wearily against the side of the flower while Yannin went inside.

"Has it happened?" Anya asked, shutting the door tight, her face pale and drawn.

"Yes," Yannin replied. "Two of them, just as we've seen."

"But we don't know which two, do we? We never did. Who was it that died?"

"Achenar. And that other woman."

Anya sighed deeply and lifted up her amulet, staring into the blue crystal. But the amulet made no sound. It had nothing to show her.

"Tell me exactly what happened. The others are still Dreaming and might already know."

Yannin relayed the events on to Anya, who still didn't look at her. When she finished, Anya sighed even deeper and let the amulet fall back onto her chest.

"And Yeesha? Is she…"

"She is alive and doesn't look physically harmed. But she won't recover from this easily, Anya. She saw two people she cared about murdered and was betrayed by a brother she loved. She's too young for that,"

"She is wise beyond her years." Anya replied almost instantly. "I know her well. Where is Atrus?"

"I don't know."

"Didn't you think to ask her?"

Yannin bit her lip. She didn't.

Anya sighed. "Yannin, you have to learn to…" then she cut off and shook her head. "There isn't time for me to lecture you. There is too much we have to do. Yannin, I need you to go find Caradell and tell her what happened. I will talk to Yeesha." Then she walked to the door and opened it, putting an arm around Yeesha and guiding her inside. Yeesha looked at Yannin, and for a moment their eyes met and Yeesha smiled. But it was an odd smile, and Yannin had to shake her head to be clear of the peculiar sensation that there was something wrong she was missing. Then Anya cleared her throat and indicated that it was time for Yannin to leave.

She did, watching as Anya closed the doors again.

Watch the harvester. Wait for the stranger. Go tell Caradell what happened, even though it was likely she already knew. For a moment, a lovely, shining moment, life seemed to have taken a turn for the…well, interesting…for Yannin. But it was only a moment, and now her usual tasks were returned to her.

But she couldn't complain. She wouldn't. She was a Protector, and it was her duty, no matter how boring it was. And it made sense, since Yeesha was safer with Anya anyway.

She shrugged it off and set off down the path to find Caradell.

* * *

Something didn't feel right. There was something strange happening, and Anya wasn't sure what. But it was there all the same, niggling at the corners of her conscious mind, and prodding vigorously in her unconscious. She wanted to Dream and see if that would help her get a hold of it, but there wasn't time for that now.

Anya took a deep breath of the chilly night air, running her hand over the top of her amulet. It was no help to her. It didn't allay her fears. It also didn't help that she wasn't sure what her fears _were._

Yeesha's story was genuine enough. The poor girl was nearly beside herself with grief and terror. Naturally she should be…from what Anya knew, the girl hadn't experienced more than the death of an insect or lizard at home, and was unprepared for the terrible things that happened today. And all the Sisters had seen for some time now the deaths of two people, and two had died today, so that too made sense. It was illogical that anything should be bothering Anya about this. It all fit. It all made _sense._

No, not all of it. There was murder involved. Murder was wholly unnatural for Serenia. That was it, then. That was what had been bothering Anya. Murder. Frightened them all.

The sun had set, and Anya had elected to allow Atrus and Yeesha to stay in her family's home for the night. They were sleeping now, but Anya couldn't, so she sat outside and stared at the stars and hoped that they would give some sense to things. But they were just stars and would always be such. Stars never offered guidance or truth.

It had been a horrible day for everyone. Yeesha was exhausted and had fallen asleep on the floor the moment she sat down. The poor girl wasn't crying now, but somehow her blank expression and silence seemed all the worse to Anya. It was too much to happen to a girl so young. And horrible what Achenar had tried to do…the very thought made Anya's skin crawl. Removing one's memories before they died for such nefarious purposes was absolutely unheard of. It didn't surprise her, though. She was young when Sirrus and Achenar were first brought here, but she remembered them all the same, and felt she knew them well after all the stories her predecessor told her about them. If anyone would come up with such a horrible plan, it would be them.

Yeesha said that she fled to Spire to seek Sirrus' help, but Achenar followed her, and he died trying to stop Achenar from taking her to Serenia. She had no way of confirming that as the truth, but Atrus seemed to believe that. It made his grief all the worse, since he had expressed to Anya once the fear that Sirrus was just as wicked as he had been twenty years ago.

Anya sat on the bench outside and closed her eyes. The cool air and the stars did nothing to allay her apprehensions. There were stranger forces at work than she cared to think about, and she suddenly wished that all this would pass as quickly as possible and they could go back to living their lives as they had before. She wanted all this grief and madness to be taken away from Serenia. Let it go back to Tomahna where they lived. Atrus was a strong person, he could take care of it. He and Catherine could watch over Yeesha and make sure she was well. As a family, they could help each other through these difficult and trying times…far away from Serenia.

It was a selfish thought.

Anya shivered, pulling her sleeves down over her arms. She opened her eyes wide and shook her head, trying to keep those thoughts away, but they kept intruding, refusing to let her brush them aside. Such terrible things had befallen such a good family and she should _not _be wishing that they would take those terrible things away from here. She should be helping them.

The door opened and was immediately followed by a muttered apology.

"I didn't know anyone was out here," Atrus said, going to shut the door again.

"It isn't a problem," Anya replied. "You can stay out if you like. I find it easier to think when it is dark. It is the closest to Dream we can achieve while awake."

"Ah,"

Anya always found it difficult to talk to Atrus, and it was obvious he felt the same. She was close to Yeesha, but Yeesha was always open to the ways of Serenia and its people. Atrus was always so guarded and seemed to look at it with a perpetual sigh on his lips, wondering how such a mystical place could be born out of the Art's scientific principals. He never understood Dream, and though he was proud of Yeesha learning the ways of the Protectors and being awarded her own amulet, she knew it was just the pride of a father for his daughter instead of full understanding in what she accomplished.

"Is Yeesha still sleeping?" Anya asked.

Atrus nodded. "I put her on the bed," he shook his head. "She's too young for this. She doesn't deserve to see such tragedy."

"She is stronger than you think," Anya replied, glancing back over her shoulder to the window into the room where Yeesha was sleeping. The curtains were drawn and the light was out. "Despite being so young. Not even our own Protectors are able to Dream as she can at her age. Yannin is the youngest of us to achieve that status, and she is nineteen. Yeesha is only ten. It takes a great deal of strength and bravery to venture into Dream while so young."

"I would imagine."

Atrus didn't sit down next to her, but didn't go back inside, either.

"You will have to take care of her, though," Anya added. "Earlier today, she was taken into Dream by force. Her memories were removed from her body while she was still alive. I do not know how long she was in Dream in that manner, but…but it is unheard of here for such a thing to happen. Her spirit guide would have kept her safe," Anya added, noting the sudden look of horror on Atrus' face. "But it is still not natural. It is …extremely strange that such a thing should take place. It has not happened in my lifetime, and I don't know what effects it may have on Yeesha. How does she seem to you?" It was the most Anya probably said to Atrus without Yeesha there since they had first met.

"She seems fine," Atrus replied, sounding surprised. "Well, not fine, but…but considering what just happened, she seems…as anyone would expect someone to react. She was terribly distraught when she came to Tomahna and brought me here. She loved Achenar and his betrayal naturally hit her hard. She grew up with Maria and loved her too."

It took a moment to realize that Maria was the name of that woman who came here. Anya suddenly felt extremely guilty that she didn't even bother to ask the woman her name. She blinked vigorously a few times and shook her head. There was no reason to feel that guilt. She had just assumed that the ancestors would tell her all she needed to know, including the woman's name. But the ancestors had been silent.

"Well, just watch her," was all Anya could think to say. "I am sure she will be fine as long as she is with you and Catherine."

Atrus said nothing to that, and Anya turned away. This was all new to her and she greatly disliked the fact. She was capable of helping people deal with their grief…it was one of her duties as Protector. But this sort of grief was a stranger to Anya and she didn't know how to react to it. Neither did Atrus, apparently. It only resulted in two people from different worlds whose only common bond was a sleeping girl inside staring awkwardly at each other outside.

"I'm sorry," Anya finally said when the silence stretched on for minutes.

"Hmm?"

"I am sorry. For all that happened. If I was able to stop it from happening, I would."

"I know."

Another long moment of silence before Atrus opened the door again. "I'm going to stay with Yeesha for the night," he said. "Sleep well, Anya."

It was the first time he addressed her by her name instead of as just Protector.

She smiled. "Good night, Atrus."

He closed the door, and Anya looked skyward again, but the sky did no more to clear her mind than it ever did. She wanted to believe what she told Atrus even though it was difficult for her to. She had to offer him hope and solidarity, which is what she gave to everyone who lost loved ones in Serenia. It was expected of her, and no matter her doubts, she couldn't let it cloud her duty.

With that thought, she went back inside too, and then to sleep.

She was the first person in the courtyard the next morning, despite the fact that it was Moiri's turn to ring the bell and therefore Anya had no reason to get up this early. The sun was barely up, and the air still cool and humid from the night. She arrived before the first bell and peered in the Hall to see if anyone was Dreaming, but the Hall was silent, all the incense put out last night. Of course everyone would be home right now. It was just her, pacing through the courtyard at dawn.

"Worrying again, Anya?"

Her pacing stopped and she turned around, startled for a moment, but then relaxed when she saw Moiri coming towards her.

"I'm not worrying," Anya replied instantly. "I was awake and figured coming here would be the best thing for me to do."

Moiri shook her head, striding past Anya to ring first bell. "So you could worry here instead of at home, I suppose," she said with a sigh, pulling the cord to strike the bell.

Anya didn't say anything, just pressed her lips together and turned away from Moiri. They got along well, just were, as Caradell often said, opposite sides of the same spirit. Moiri was the free-flowing stream, the bubbling fountain, the cheerful summer rain, and Anya was the river that came up to a dam and stopped until the dam broke apart. Caradell always had a way with words…Moiri just said it meant Anya worried too much.

"Stop," Moiri ordered after the bell had chimed seven times. "Stop pacing. You're making me nervous."

"Sorry," Anya sat down instead on the steps leading up to the Hall. "I'm surprised no one is Dreaming."

"Why? Everyone is tired, at home with their families, like you should be. Isn't Yeesha and Atrus with you?"

"Yes."

"Then?"

"They're sleeping. I didn't want to disturb them, but I couldn't stay asleep any longer and had to come here. There's just…so much wrong with this, Moiri."

"I know." Moiri left the bell alone and sat down next to Anya. "But your worrying won't make it any better. The ancestors left the last task on that woman, and she…"

"Failed," Anya said suddenly, the word sounding almost angry on her tongue, and she was surprised to hear herself say that.

Moiri was, too. She sat up a little straighter and stiffened. "We do not speak ill of the dead who have done no wrong," she said almost sharply. "She was not of Serenia and therefore could not have understood our customs and what was asked of her. She did the best she could with what she was given. We should respect her for being as brave as she was, venturing into Dream in only a short amount of time and doing it only to help someone else."

Anya knew the truth in Moiri's words and looked down at her amulet, turning it over in her hands. What Anya really should have said was that _she _failed, as a Protector, as a friend to Yeesha, even as nothing more than a child of water. She should have seen at least something of this, she should have done more to help, she should have been with Yeesha or at least found her. She realized now that she had been expecting that stranger to do it all, and she had done almost nothing...

She assured Atrus countless times that everything would be fine yet couldn't bring herself to believe the same.

"I am sorry, Moiri," Anya said heavily.

"It is already forgiven," Moiri's formality dropped and she rested a companiable hand on Anya's shoulder. "There has been much sorrow and chaos here, and it will take time for it to settle, even for us. You are as that woman was, you know. You both did everything that you were able, and the rest…" she glanced behind her at the hall, then touched her forehead and Anya's. "The rest was left to the spirits and what they willed,"

Anya nodded. "I know. It is just hard to accept that when..."

The two were interrupted by Yannin running through the courtyard and tripping over her long skirts, flailing in the air for a moment before righting herself and walking towards the two older Protectors as if nothing had happened.

"Good morning, Yannin," Moiri said, touching her forehead, and Anya did the same.

"Good morning," Yannin said breathlessly. "Are you both well today? I heard the bell, I thought I was late…"

"Late for what?" Moiri asked.

"I don't know, late for something…" Yannin looked around frantically, her long hair whipping her in the face, her hands smoothing her dress repeatedly. Anya sighed again, this time with slight annoyance. She knew it she shouldn't feel annoyance for another Sister, but Yannin's constant forgetfulness and absentmindedness had bothered Anya from the start.

"You're not late for anything," Moiri said smoothly. "It was only first bell."

"Oh. Because I'm usually late, which is never good, whenever…"

"You're not late."

"Well, that's…that is good," Yannin faltered, going from frantic to embarrassed in only a few moments. Then she glanced behind them at the open Hall, and bit her lip. "Is it too early to Dream?" she asked, her voice suddenly a whisper.

"It is never too early to seek wisdom when one is in need of it," Moiri replied to the anxious girl.

Yannin nodded, not taking her eyes off the doorway, now fingering her necklace nervously.

"Has the amulet shown you something?"

"Yes," Yannin looked down at it. "Near the old memory chamber. I know I shouldn't have gone back there, but…"

"You shouldn't have," Anya interrupted. "There is much that we must all do together as Protectors to untangle the evil events that surround it. You should not have gone alone and looked without the rest of us there."

"Anya," Moiri said softly, resting a hand on her arm. "Do not be angry with her. She is young, she is impatient. She is scared, we all are. She worries in her own way."

Moiri was the river that flowed around the dam instead of waiting to break through it, Anya thought with a sigh. She should let Moiri talk to Yannin and keep silent herself. Yannin had done nothing wrong…you couldn't fault a child of fire for being the way her life was as written on her cloth.

"My apologies, Yannin," Anya said.

"What was it that you saw?" Moiri asked, rising and walking over to Yannin.

Yannin didn't seem so inclined to say. She played with her amulet again, sighing, then glancing from Anya to the Hall and back again.

"Anya," Moiri said. "Wouldn't it be best for you to meet Atrus and Yeesha right when they arrive here from the village? It would be a kindness to them to see a friendly face."

"Of course," Anya stood up and nodded. "Thank you, Moiri. And I am sorry, Yannin, for being so short tempered today."

"It's fine," Yannin answered.

Anya left the two Protectors and walked down the paths until she came to the place where they brought people from the village. So coming here early didn't do much to help clear her thoughts as she had hoped it would, and now she was curious as to what Yannin was so distraught over. Perhaps she would ask Moiri later, if the older Protector was inclined to tell her at all.

Anya met Atrus and Yeesha a short while later when the balloon brought them from the village. Atrus looked like he hadn't gotten much sleep the night before, and Yeesha was as solemn as before. She greeted them and clasped both of their hands tight and was given a weary smile from Atrus in return.

"I am sorry I wasn't there when you woke," she said to them. "I had much on my mind, as I'm sure we all do. Did you sleep the best you could?"

Atrus nodded.

"Your mother gave us pancakes," added Yeesha. "They were exceptional."

"She does make good pancakes," Anya answered. "Atrus, what…"

"I think we need to get home," he said, his voice strained. "I need to find Catherine. I don't meant to leave so suddenly, but I am sure you understand."

"I do," Anya laid a hand on Atrus' shoulder, and then a moment later realized that Catherine still didn't know what happened here. Anya was so used to the way Serenia worked where everyone knew what passed by the next day. She stepped closer to Atrus so that Yeesha couldn't hear and said, "Nothing will be disturbed. We will leave it all as it was, and when you are ready, you can come back."

Atrus didn't say anything for a moment, but she could see him working to stay calm. "Yes," he finally said. "Thank you."

"Shall I walk you to the Stone Forest?" she offered.

"Yes," Yeesha said. "I want to see the water spirits,"

Anya nodded, and the three set off down the paths, walking in silence. They crossed the courtyard and Anya smiled to Moiri who was standing at the entrance of the Hall, lighting the incense. Yannin wasn't there anymore, presumably Dreaming or having gone back home.

"I think from here we should go on alone," Atrus said when they reached a willow tree, the fluff falling around them, turning the air hazy and white. Atrus had stopped right under it and was almost obscured by a sudden burst of fluff made from Yeesha pulling on a tree branch. The girl looked fascinated by it, holding a ball in her hand, running her finger over it and staring as if she had never seen a fluff before in her life.

"How many trees are there here?" she asked, though it seemed she was asking the fluff. "A hundred? A thousand?"

"I don't know. You'd best ask Caradell, she knows everything about the trees here." Anya replied softly, taking the fluff from Yeesha's hand. She knelt down and brushed the stray wisps of Yeesha's hair aside. "Be brave, my sister," she whispered. "Be strong for your family and for yourself. And never forget those who have passed on." She kissed Yeesha's forehead before standing up again. "My best with all of you. Tell Catherine she is in all our thoughts as well."

"Thank you, Anya." Atrus replied. He took Yeesha's hand, and they set off down the path. Anya watched them go and stood there for some five minutes afterward, staring at the path that wove its way through the forest. She felt something tickle her cheek and reached out, catching a fluff in her own hand. Anya looked at it, soft between her fingers.

What would happen now, she wondered. But she didn't have an answer, and decided this wasn't the time or place to think of it, so she let the fluff go. It drifted off on the wind and floated off down the path until she couldn't see it anymore, and she brushed the remaining fluff off her head and walked away from the forest.

* * *

Sirrus had no interest in hushed voices behind closed doors. It would be far too predictable, what those voices were saying. It had always been so with mother and father and their private conversations. On Myst, he and Achenar usually listened, ears pressed to the door or the keyhole, trying to catch what little snatches they could. But that was a long time ago, when he wanted to know what they were saying. It didn't matter now.

Their conversation now would no doubt involve mother becoming hysterical when she heard the news, and the two would stay awake all night in what he supposed was a living room, sometimes speaking, sometimes not, and when the morning came, they would have made a decision. He assumed that their old pattern of long discussions would not be any different after twenty years.

The night was warm, and he was not used to it. Nor was he used to the dry, cool air of this desert that Tomahna was situated in. It blew through the trees, and he watched the leaves move with the wind with an odd sort of fascination. Perhaps it was the same sort of fascination that had him watching the lights earlier as the insects flew around it until they struck it one too many times and fell to the floor.

Now the voices in the living room were raised, but he was too far to make out exact words. He didn't remember the last time they argued. He didn't remember the last time they had spoken unguardedly, either…willing to shout whatever came into their minds to each other. On Spire they spoke past the cold metal bars of the linking chamber and no one said what they were truly thinking.

Sirrus folded his hands and stared out at the rushing water. Running water, too, was something he would have to get used to. He was unaccustomed to the sound, to the smell, to the idea of being able to walk down to a stream and throw something in, watching it be carried away by the current.

Ah, they were quiet. They were afraid, of course, of speaking too loudly and distressing their dear daughter, even though she was supposed to be asleep, not standing at the balcony staring at the rushing water.

So the Serenians seemed sufficiently fooled. He thought he would have difficulty with Anya, as she was the closest to Yeesha. But they hadn't had an excessive amount of contact, so there weren't any problems. The only problems he did foresee was if he had to return to Serenia later. He wasn't yet certain if he could keep Anya believing for an extended amount of time that he was Yeesha. She might catch on. The others, however, it wouldn't be a problem.

Mother and father were too distraught to bother thinking too hard on it. And what would they have to suspect? The only one who knew was that woman and Achenar, and they were dead. And Yeesha, who knew what happened with her? Perhaps she was dead, perhaps she was still trapped in Dream. That didn't matter either, for she was of little consequence now. The coffin that still held his body in suspended animation was hidden, and it was doubtful anyone would be able to find it, locked as it was in a secret passage underneath the old memory chamber behind a color lock that no one knew the combination to.

All that was left, of course, was learning how to Write. He knew he would be perfectly capable of that once the time came. And once it did, he would only have to keep up this absurd charade long enough to learn what he had to learn.

Sirrus picked up a rock and examined its pitted surface. For the first time in years, everything was going exactly according to plan. No one suspected anything, and as long as he didn't do anything foolish, they'd have no reason to.

He tossed the rock over the edge and watched it fall. This had been, he decided, an excellent day.


	2. Discovery

And so life moved on in Serenia, as it always did. The door to the old memory chamber that Yannin had been taken through by Yeesha was closed and presumed would never be opened again. There was no need, either, for everything had been taken care of.

"Taken care of" was a phrase that Yannin had heard more times than she could count this past month. Atrus had returned a few days later, and after discussing things deeply with Anya, had taken the bodies of the stranger and Achenar back home. He had decided that it would be best for them to be buried in Tomahna, as the stranger…Maria…had been a friend for so long that Tomahna was practically her home. And Achenar…Achenar was his son, no matter the terrible things he did.

Yannin admired that, though she didn't mention it to anyone. He was such a good man, Atrus, and didn't deserve this. And that he still cared for his son after all this…Yannin wished someone would write this down in Serenia's histories. It showed that good people could still exist even after tragedy, and as Serenia did not have a lot of tragedy in its past, this made it all the more important. It also showed that not everyone from other worlds was bad, as Anya seemed to think. In Anya's eyes, Yeesha was the only good thing to come from elsewhere, or at least that's the way it appeared to Yannin.

After that stranger and Achenar were taken away, it seemed that everyone was making an effort to return everything to normal. Anya had been working the hardest of all, coming to the Hall every morning and then returning to the village late at night, bringing news every day that would assure the people that things were returning to the way they always were. "It has been taken care of," she would say to everyone, and the more she said it, the more people believed her. They believed everything the Protectors told them, especially at a time of such chaos. It gave happiness to know that the chaos was passing.

So the weeks went by, and life_ did _return to normal. The people in the village lived as they always had, and the Protectors too kept everything safe. The current Protectors even felt a bit of pride that they had lived through what was one of the most troubling times in Serenian history and had held everything together.

This was one of the many reasons that Yannin put off telling the other Protectors what she saw with her amulet that morning she came running into the courtyard. Oh, she knew she wasn't late for anything. But the moment she saw the slight frown on Anya's face and Moiri's raised eyebrow, she knew she shouldn't say anything. So she made up some excuse about being late and stayed for a half an hour listening to Moiri's speech about keeping one's head in time of trouble. She figured then that she would tell them another day, but the next two days were filled with watching over the old memory chamber until Atrus returned. Then the two bodies were brought back home, and after that, they moved onto trying to calm the people and make sure everything returned to normal.

There wasn't a chance to, Yannin insisted as she stood in front of the chamber for what felt like the hundredth time in the past two weeks. And now that the crisis had passed, so to speak, she didn't…

The amulet shimmered in her hand, a ring in her ears and a flash in her hand…

"_What, smart girl like you can't figure out something as simple as a color code? And you call yourself father's daughter! I do believe he might be disappointed at that."_

"_Please, Sirrus, I'm sorry I don't know how to do it!"_

"_Don't apologize to _me, _girl. It's too late for that. Now, be silent before someone hears you!" _

_Then there was a muffled sound, and a cry, and…_

…want to cause any trouble.

Yannin let her hand fall away from the amulet and wandered away from the door, looking upward at the clouds. It might rain soon. It hadn't rained in awhile.

Everything was settled. _Settled. _Which means, in the long run, keep your mouth shut and don't bring up anything you've seen. So Yannin walked past the old chamber and down the path that led to the balloon's docking station. She was supposed to meet Aldiren, an older man, and his daughter Apellis. Aldiren was eighty-seven and wanted to see Anya, and Yannin was in charge of taking Apellis around the Forest while Aldiren was occupied.

She really hoped that this task would take her mind off everything she had been seeing. That memory she'd seen nearly eight times to date, and by now it should be fading! It was part of events that were completely finished and everything known about them safely written down and stored. She had given that particular memory the third time to her spirit guide, and he admitted that he didn't know why it was still there. And if he didn't know, how was she supposed to?

It kept showing up to her every time she passed the door. Did any of the others see it? If so, they didn't say anything. Maybe they did, and just didn't say anything to _her. _After all, she was too young. And memories like these…like that one, or the one of Achenar on the bridge speaking to the woman...and one of Sirrus, exploding the harvester upon the sight of the woman…they weren't meant for her. They were for older Protectors to discover and analyze, and Yannin was sure they already had. That was just the way things were, and they were probably the ones sitting around wondering what exactly Sirrus used to explode the harvester because it made a horrible high pitched sound before exploding…or wondering…

Or wondering why he was even alive in Serenia recently, when the story Yeesha had told Anya a few days ago was that Sirrus had died on Spire trying to fight off Achenar and save her. It didn't make _sense _that she saw him here. There had to be a reason. Was it an older memory? No, because the harvester was destroyed _that day..._

_Stop thinking about it, _she ordered herself. The older sisters probably saw this and were discussing it themselves and if they felt to include Yannin, they would have, and so far they hadn't and…

She turned the corner and ran into Apellis, who dropped her basket full of fruit and stumbled sideways, nearly falling into the water beside the balloon platform.

"What was that?" demanded Aldiren, squinting his ancient, rheumy eyes at Yannin.  
"Fall, did you?"

"Oh, I am so sorry, please accept my apology!" Yannin stammered at Apellis, who managed not to fall, but was now looking forlornly at the fruit strewn all over the ground. "Here, let me help you with that, I am so sorry I didn't see you there…" Yannin bent over and frantically gathered the fruit, holding out her skirt and dropping the pieces in. Her cheeks flushed and she bit her lip in embarrassment. So busy worrying about other people's business that she didn't even look where she was going…

She stood up again and tipped the fruit back into Apellis' basket. "Really, I didn't mean it, I was just distracted," She said again. "Please, just…"

"I know you're sorry, don't keep repeating yourself," Apellis answered. "Are you Yannin?"

"Yes,"

"Oh." Apellis hitched the basket onto her hip. "My grandfather's sister was a Protector, years ago, do you remember anyone by the name of Sori?"

Yannin could tell that Apellis was just trying to make her feel better, which of course made her feel even more foolish, but appreciated the woman for trying.

"Sori was Anya's mentor," Yannin replied. "She was a Child of Water."

"I knew Sori well. I didn't know she was part of your family," Anya said, walking down the path towards them. "Good afternoon, Aldiren. And you, Apellis. And Yannin," she reached Yannin and lightly touched her forehead and then Yannin's in greeting.

Aldiren smiled. "Anya!" He said, embracing the younger woman. "How good it is to see you again! I certainly remember you, I read you stories every night at the end of the week, do you remember that? Remember the stories?"

"But of course," Anya smiled broadly at him. "I'll never forget. Come with me, I'd love to hear some of them again." She took his elbow and led him down the path, leaving Yannin alone with Apellis.

Apellis sighed, watching her father go. "Anya is the only Protector he'll speak to, take no offense," she said sadly. "He is getting too old, and after everything that happened, you know, he's a bit paranoid." She shrugged. "He feels Anya is part family because he knew her growing up. You were going to show me around the forest? And this fruit is for you, to show our thanks." She handed the basket to Yannin.

"Well. Thank you. It is appreciated and…" She was going to say that she was glad the fruit was for her because then she wouldn't have to tell the other sisters that she knocked it all over the floor, but stopped herself just in time.

"What were you so distracted with?" asked Apellis as Yannin led her deeper into the Forest. "Do you think we will see any spirits? I never have, but have always hoped to…"

"We might, as long as you don't move too fast. They startle easily."

They strolled along, speaking occasionally. They didn't have much in common, so Yannin ended up just talking about the process of finding a spirit guide and how many tries it would sometimes take. She remembered so many attempts of bringing hers an offering that failed…the fire from the flower, dripping onto her hands, but extinguishing before she reached a clearing. She pointed at the clearing where the fire spirits were usually found, even though there were none at the moment, and

"_Cursed spirits, how many are there?" a light, crisp voice demanded. _

"_A lot," Yeesha's voice was strained. "They like the pools of water, or those empty areas…the fire spirits stay near the fireflower…and..."_

_The crackling sound of flame diminished and was replaced with the rush of water._

"_Another one! I thought you said they were frightened of people!"_

"_I did!" Yeesha cried. "They usually are, I don't know why they are all watching…"_

"_You are so much a part of this land, are you? Tell them to leave, it is terribly unnerving, having them watch."_

"_I can't make them go away, Sirrus, they do everything themselves, no one orders spirits around!"_

Yannin stepped away from the clearing, the last word ringing in her ears. She clutched her amulet and nearly dropped the basket of fruit.

"Are you alright?" asked Apellis, laying a hand on her shoulder. "Dear Protector, is everything fine?"

"I am, I am, it was nothing," Yannin waved her hand and shrugged the woman's shoulder off. "Just a memory, that was all."

"Oh! Do you really see them through your necklace? What kinds of memories do you see?"

"All kinds…" Yannin took her away from the clearing, explaining to her the workings of the necklace. Apellis listened to that instead and didn't ask further about what Yannin saw.

The day passed slowly, and Yannin was relieved when Apellis went back home. Anya didn't say anything to her when she brought Aldiren back, just smiled and nodded and went on her way. The sun was starting to set, and Yannin had to get back for dinner or else her younger sister would worry. She walked past the Hall to

"_I'm not getting involved in this, Sirrus!" Achenar's voice was loud and rough. "I told you, I don't want any part of your plan!"_

"_Yet still you hold their lifestone. It interests you, doesn't it? Certainly it must, or you would have drowned me in Haven before I had the chance to return here."_

"_You got away there because of your damned crystals, or else I would have! You leave me out of this, and let Yeesha go back home!"_

the balloon dock where there already was a balloon waiting. She waved her hand to tell them not to leave yet, and they pulled on the ropes to keep the balloon down while she got in.

"Good evening, Protector," the ballooner said with a bright smile. Yannin managed a wave back at him, and then sat down in the basket while the balloon lifted off.

The other sisters had to have seen that memory, too. They had to have discussed it, too, how it made no sense since it was Achenar's terrible plan that almost destroyed Yeesha and Serenia. How in every one she had seen involving Yeesha, Achenar was nowhere in sight. How it seemed more and more that Achenar wasn't the man behind the idea at all.

Yannin rested her head in her hands. That made no sense! They had _proof _that it was Achenar. He stole the lifestone. He sent Yeesha's memories to Dream. He was killed in a struggle with that woman, who was trying desperately to save Yeesha.

And either way it didn't matter, because this issue was resolved, catalogued, and _over. _Bringing it up again would just make everyone panic again, and what kind of Protector would Yannin be if she didn't work hard to keep everything stable?

It took little time to get back to the village, and she made sure to greet everyone she came across as she walked to her house. Today everyone seemed in a good mood, and one young girl gave her a necklace of flowers that she wove together from the plants that grew by the river. Yannin thanked her and put it around her neck, then reached her house and opened the door.

She was greeted immediately by her youngest brother Parlen, who dropped a white mouse into her hand as soon as she walked in and announced that its name was Tippy and he caught the mouse downstairs and didn't want to kill it. Then Taler, who was slightly older than Parlen, ran in and pulled Parlen's hair, and then they both ran off into the kitchen. The sound of crashing pots followed, and Yannin closed her eyes and winced. It was no wonder she found the peace and quiet of the Hall of Spirits to be her favorite place when she came home every night to this. Her two younger brothers seemed in a constant battle for proving each one was the fastest, her younger sister Serifa was just turning thirteen and would lock herself in the room for hours at a time and announce that no one could see her because she didn't look pretty, and her older sister just moved in with her husband, and the only reason Yannin had a room to herself was because her mother felt it would be disrespectful to her title as Protector not to let her have one.

But she had to admit, at least for today, she enjoyed the chaos. It brought her attention entirely to the present, and helping separate Parlen and Taler in the kitchen all the while making sure that there was enough fish for everyone tonight kept her mind off the memories she had seen all day today.

And at least for that day, it worked. All the amulet showed her once she was home was an argument that mother got in with Serifa earlier today, and when that was done, she took it off, set it on her table in her room, and went back to hear how her father's day was. Parlen curled up on her lap and went to sleep to the sound of mother's harp, and it was impossible in such a cozy setting to continue worrying about the memories.

Let the other sisters deal with it, she thought, brushing Parlen's hair. It had nothing to do with her.

She let herself continue to think that, and eventually believed it. And with that, she assumed life would continue to move on, as it always did.

* * *

Anya clasped Aldiren's hand and then saw him off, watching the balloon float away into the sky to the village beyond. Anya's day wasn't over yet…she had night bell duty and had to stay until she rang the twelfth bell. That was fine with her; night bell duty was always her favorite. The stars were distant and cold, but on warm nights, Anya always felt closer to them than any of the other Protectors did.

The night was chilly and the air heavy. It would rain soon. She tilted her face upward, seeing now only a few faint patches of stars through the clouds. When it rained on Serenia it rained for days at a time. In the village, the shops all closed down and the owners went home, and the entire village consisted of people peering through their shuttered windows to see if the rain stopped yet. It made Anya smile to see the anxious faces of the children as they waited for the clouds to clear and the village to breathe again.

It was still hours to twelfth bell. Raeane just rang ninth, and she waved farewell to Anya and headed towards the balloon dock, leaving Anya alone in the square.

The chime of ninth bell still hung in the air, and the wind picked up. Then one drop plinked out of the sky and onto Anya's face, making her blink and splutter. Another one fell, here and there, and Anya ducked into the doorway to the Hall of Spirits just as the rain started in earnest, drumming against the Hall and soon running in rivulets through the courtyard.

Anya exhaled deeply, leaning against the wall near the entrance. She loved the rain. The sound and smell relaxed her, and for the first time in a month, she felt that everything _would _be alright.

It was still three hours until twelfth bell. As much as she loved rain, she couldn't watch it for three hours. This newfound peace was surprising but assuring, and she felt the need to share it with her spirit guide and tell her old mentor Sori that she felt the chaos was finally over. Sori would be proud of her.

Anya lit the incense and went to sit by the window. She held her hand out and let the rain fall onto her hand and run down her arm and sighed again. Yes, the crisis was over. She brought her arm back in again, touching the rain to her forehead, nose, and chin. Then she closed folded her hands and closed her eyes, and made the familiar journey back into Dream.

_-Anya,-_

_She opened her eyes again to the sound of her spirit guide. This was her first personal journey in over a month, since every other time she had been in Dream it was with the rest of the sisters, discussing what they were going to do next to end the crisis as soon as possible. Her spirit guide knew this, and she felt his understanding and happiness at her return, and that made her feel even better._

_-Anya, it has been awhile,- he said. -Welcome home.-_

_-Thank you,- she answered. _

_-I see the people are doing well. I am happy for them too.-_

_-I've done the best I could,-_

_-And that is all that we need. What wisdom do you seek tonight?-_

_-I'd like to see Sori. I haven't talked to her in months.-_

_-Ah, of course. Let us go.-_

_Anya wasn't the only one in Dream tonight. A series of brilliant sparks shot by her face as she and her guide went deeper into Dream. She reached out and touched them, feeling their sharp curiosity against her hand. She always wondered about the others who found their way here, those from beyond Serenia who could Dream as she did. It had startled her when she was younger, but her guide always said not to worry about it. They were only seeking wisdom as she was._

_-Anya!-_

_She heard Sori's voice and saw the ancestor take a vague shape in front of her, clear, blue, and welcoming._

_-Anya, I am glad to see you again-, Sori said. -I know you have been busy taking care of everyone. Tell me how they all are.-_

_Anya was glad to tell her, and it was such a relief to describe to Sori everything she had seen and felt the past month, especially with her guide's support the whole time. She felt more comfortable with Sori than she did with any of the living Protectors._

_-Ah, my Anya,- Sori said when Anya had finished speaking. -Difficult times fell on Serenia, but you…ah, I am proud of you, and what you have done. What all of you have done. In such strange times, we couldn't ask for better Protectors than the six we have now.-_

_-Truly?-_

_-You must stop second guessing yourself,- Sori scolded. -You all have done well.-_

_Anya relaxed even more now, and felt then that all really would be fine. She would tell the others tomorrow, especially Caradell, who had been as close to Sori as Anya had._

_She spent more time with Sori and then later went to see her grandmother. She would have spent more time there, but she heard her spirit guide gently remind her that it was nearly time for twelfth bell and she should be getting back. Anya bid farewell to both of them and then prepared to head back._

_Then a third spirit joined them. This one wasn't blue like Sori or shimmering pale red like Anya's grandmother. It was brilliant and white, and when it brushed against Anya's guide, he shied away from it._

_-What's wrong?- Anya asked. –Who is that?-_

_-I don't know,- her guide replied. –It's not…it is just a spirit. It has no body to return to.- _

_This wasn't unusual, so Anya didn't see the problem. Instead she greeted the spirit, welcoming it to Dream and hoping it found the wisdom here that it wanted. Then it brushed against her, too, soft and shushing, and she wondered where her family was because she couldn't find them and Tomahna was so far from here, and she liked visiting Dream but didn't like staying here for this long and she really wanted to go home. _

_What?_

_Both Anya and her guide startled, and she drew away from the spirit. Tomahna, that was Atrus' home, not hers!_

_She saw a shower of sparks touch the white spirit, then scatter in different directions. Then she saw several other spirits, ancestors, though none that she knew, do the same…and again, they too left._

_Anya pressed against one side of the spirit, and her guide touched the other. Together they had a better chance of figuring out who or what this was. _

_But when Anya concentrated, all she received from it was confusion. Other than that, the spirit was silent. But no, she couldn't be silent, she resembled the ancestors, only…_

_-Anya. Anya, please, we must go.- her guide's voice had gone from gentle to insistent and before she could say anything else, she felt herself being pulled away from the spirit and back through Dream. She felt her spirit guide's apology for rushing her back, and she accepted. And again she asked what that was, but…but he didn't know. He said this wasn't the time to ask._

The rain was still going when Anya opened her eyes in the Hall. The mask opened and vanished into a mist of water vapor, and Anya removed her hands from the ceremonial gloves, setting them aside.

Then she glanced at her watch, and realized it was nearly a half an hour after twelfth bell.

Anya ran outside and through the rain, skidding to a halt in front of the bell and pulling the chord twelve times. She would apologize tomorrow for being late. Now, though, she should be going home. Would they wait for her?

No. Maybe. She didn't know. Either way, it was raining too hard to get home by balloon anyway, so it seemed she would have to stay here for the night. Well, she should still see if the ballooner went home yet. So she dropped the bell rope, pulling her heavy, wet hair away from her face and walking down the path towards the balloon platform. The rain made the stripe of paint on her face run. She tried to brush it off to keep it from getting in her eyes, but all she succeeded in doing was smearing it across her cheeks.

The platform was empty, as she expected. He would have gone home a half hour ago anyway, so it didn't matter. And now she was completely soaked.

Anya made her way back to the hall and inside, sitting in the center of the floor and pulling her knees up to her chest. She rested her chin on them and sighed again, closing her eyes, knowing she should get some bedding but feeling too tired to move.

She also knew she should think about what that was, because she didn't understand it and it was her job to understand things like that. Yet she didn't feel like doing that, either.

There was peace, for a moment. But now there was still more to do.

The problem was, she didn't know what. And, it seemed, her guide didn't, either.

Then who did?

* * *

Yannin had never come this far before. None of the Protectors…none of the Serenians at all…would go past the four way junction near where the water, fire, and air spirits would frequent. There was that tree, the one in a constant state of shedding fluff, and a small bridge, and…past that, Yannin didn't know. She had seen Yeesha go this way on occasion, so it couldn't be dangerous, but still.

Yannin rubbed her palms on her dress. Despite the fact that nothing in Serenia was dangerous, there was…there was just an unspoken rule that you didn't come this way. This way belonged to Atrus, Catherine, and Yeesha, and only to them. It was not meant for Serenians, and they had always accepted that. No one ever wanted to go there, either. They had their own lives.

Several large fluffballs floated past Yannin's head as she stared at the bridge just past the tree. No reason, except…

She scrubbed her hands harder on the soft cloth of her shirt. No reason except for countless memories she'd seen that indicated that everything was _not _alright and _not _settled, that there was something wrong with Yeesha, that it was Sirrus instead of Achenar who had all sorts of horrific plans for that poor girl and her family. No reason except something was still horribly _wrong _and she had no way of figuring out what, except that this was the only place she hadn't looked for clues…

She took a deep breath and walked past the trees and across the bridge to the cave.

Nothing jumped out at her, not that she expected it to. There was just a cave, damp and dripping, with small pools of water inside. Nothing to be afraid of.

It had been months now since the events had been settled. Yannin kept telling herself every day and every time she found a new memory that it wasn't hers or anyone else's problem, and she'd been doing it for so long that she actually believed it. But her guide, oh, he was always wiser than she. He told her…and her great-grandfather agreed…that she had to listen to her thoughts and intuition, as sometimes those were one's greatest strengths as a Protector.

So she did. And here she was.

In the back of the cave was a pedestal of rock with a book resting on the top. It was a thick book with an ornate symbol etched on the cover. Yannin had seen Yeesha with this symbol before…it was the sign of her home. And Atrus, that strange man and his books…and this was one of his books.

Yannin touched the corners of the book and nothing happened. Then she opened the cover, breath hitching in her chest as she stared down at the page. There was a small square with the image of somewhere else, small dwellings built into a cliff surrounding water. She could see a rushing waterfall and a wheel, turning continuously.

Tomahna. This was Yeesha's home.

She never knew how they came from there to Serenia, and she never bothered to ask. It was another one of those questions that no one felt the need to know. Yannin's spirit guide told her that it really wasn't important, because their world had nothing to do with this one and she had much to do here.

But it did. Yeesha, her brothers, Atrus, Maria…they were all from that world and did countless things here. It all connected, the strange happenings, the memories, all of it converged at this point in front of this book with its strange moving picture…

Someone had to tell Atrus that all was not right…

Yannin's hand slowly inched towards the moving panel. And since no one else was saying anything…

"Yannin, dear spirits, girl, what are you doing here?"

Yannin startled so badly she stumbled back against the cave wall and then slid down it and landed on the ground, her heart pounding so hard that for a second she thought it would stop altogether. She closed her eyes and tried to calm herself, but it wasn't working.

"Yannin?"

When she opened her eyes again, Anya was standing at the mouth of the cave, her head tilted to the side, her expression unreadable.

"Er, yes, good morning, sister," Yannin stammered, standing up and brushing the dirt off her skirt. "You look well today, aren't you glad it stopped raining?" She regretted saying that immediately, because the rain storm was three months ago and the sun had been shining ever since.

Anya wasn't fooled. Her eyes flicked back to the pedestal where the book was open. "What are you doing here?" she demanded.

"I was just, checking, on things, you know, making sure that nothing has been disturbed," Yannin winced at how pitiful that sounded. She, like any Protector and just about anyone else on Serenia, made a very poor liar. "I am sure people have been curious after everything that happened, you know, trying to see what's…here." She forced a smile. "But everything is fine, so I'll just get back to the Forest." She straightened and started to move out of the cave, but Anya held up a hand.

Anya didn't say anything, then, but her eyes flicked to the open book, then back to Yannin.

"Sister," Anya began, and Yannin could tell she was trying very hard to keep her voice calm. "Everyone knows to keep out of this cave. It is Atrus' cave, Atrus' world, not ours."

"I know," Yannin dropped her eyes.

"Then for what absurd reason were you here, and why is the book open?"

Yannin wasn't a good liar under normal circumstances. She was even worse under pressure, and the idea of lying to a fellow Sister made her feel almost ill.

"We have to warn Atrus," There was nothing else to do but tell Anya the truth. Then the other Protectors would know that she knew, too, even though they seemed to feel it better not to tell her all these months. "There's been a mistake and we have to tell him before anything bad happens. See, I…I found…a great deal of memories that contradicted everything we thought." Yannin scrubbed her hands on her dress and looked down. No turning back now. So she told Anya everything she found over the weeks, from the first memory the day that Atrus and Yeesha left, down to her preposterous theory that Sirrus was still alive, though she wasn't sure how, and Yeesha…wasn't.

Anya didn't move through Yannin's entire explanation. Yannin was sure that in the end Anya would scold her for being foolish and then send her home, just the way she used to do when Yannin was still in training. But she didn't.

At the end of Yannin's explanation, Anya took a deep breath. She looked at the book, then at the opening of the cave, her eyes lingering on the stream beyond. She gripped her amulet for a moment and whispered a quick prayer to the ancestors and to her spirit guide, asking for all the strength possible at this moment.

"Yannin," Anya finally said.

"I am sorry if I have made a mistake, sister," Yannin said.

But Anya shook her head. "You haven't," she continued. "If anything, you…" Anya walked forward and placed a hand on Yannin's shoulder. Anya touched her forehead and then Yannin's, and her eyes were suddenly grave and serious. "I, too, have been seeing things that do not agree with what we thought. You have seen the memories here, and I have seen things in Dream that…should not be there." Anya turned away, folding her hands and tapping her forefingers against her nose. "Let us walk, Yannin. There is much we need to discuss."

Together they walked out of the cave and into the stone forest. Anya stopped in front of a bubble fountain, holding out her hand and catching several. She leaned against the rock that surrounded it, and Yannin did the same.

"Let me tell you what I've seen," Anya said, more to the bubble than to Yannin. "I can't say it is any stranger than your story." And then Anya told Yannin of her own experiences, continually brushing into a spirit in Dream that was detached from its body. She managed to piece together the vague, disjointed memories she got from the spirit and identified it as Yeesha, even though that was impossible, but the more she and her guide investigated, the more it proved true.

"It makes sense now," Anya said, sounding almost fervent. "The memories you've seen, what I've found in Dream…I thought I was mad, Yannin." Anya shook her head. "I thought everything I saw was impossible because it made little sense. I haven't told anyone either."

"Why not?"

"Why didn't you?"

Yannin pulled on a lock of hair that had fallen in front of her face. "I thought the other sisters saw those memories already," she admitted. "And if I said anything, they would think I was stirring trouble when everything had gone back to normal."

Anya sighed and put an arm around Yannin. It startled her, since Anya had always seemed so impatient with Yannin, and Yannin got the impression that Anya found her too hasty and too forgetful to fulfill her duty as Protector. Yannin looked at Anya, and was surprised to see that it didn't look like that anymore.

"Anya? What's wrong?"

"I was scared, too," Anya admitted.

Yannin didn't know what to say. But she felt better, and she could tell by Anya's posture that she did as well.

"So what do we do now?" Yannin asked.

Anya stayed silent for the longest time. "We have to tell the others,"

"Do you think they'll believe us?"

Anya glanced back at the cave, and gave Yannin's shoulder a squeeze. "We have to try," she said.


	3. Choortahn

"No, I will wake her," Mother's voice drifted into Sirrus' mind, still halfway between waking and sleeping. A woman replied to mother in another language, one that Sirrus didn't recognize. The woman chucked, but mother didn't laugh in response. A moment later Sirrus felt a hand on his shoulder and his mother's voice in his ears.

"Yeesha? Wake up, love, it's almost noon!"

Mother's voice was a strange combination of worry and amusement. She shook Sirrus again, this time with renewed energy, until he opened his eyes and blinked at her. Mother was smiling, relieved, and ruffled his hair. "Oh, you look so tired. When did you get to sleep last night?"

Sirrus didn't know. He hadn't worked by a clock since the one he brought with him to Spire stopped working, and that had to be at least eighteen years ago. He slept and woke when he wanted, and for a moment he forgot that he couldn't do that anymore. The light shone into the room between the peculiar branches of Tay's main hive. They had to follow the sun and therefore follow a clock. It was terribly inconvenient.

But he would get used to it again, of course. It was the normal pattern of every other Age in the world, including the ones he would someday Write. He was starting to, after several days in Tay, because at least by night Tay reminded him faintly of Spire, with the grayness of its roots and the lights glimmering outside the window. It was what he imagined at one point he would find somewhere on Spire, but never did.

"Sorry, mother," he said, sitting up in bed and yawning. "I had forgotten to look at the clock before going to sleep."

No! No, that was _wrong. _Yeesha doesn't talk that way, idiot!

"Sorry, mom," he said again. "I couldn't sleep."

"I understand," replied mother, sighing deeply and stroking his hair. "I wouldn't have woken you, dear, but I just heard from dad and he says Maria's family is due in Tomahna tomorrow, so we have to be back by tomorrow morning."

"Oh, okay." He sounded subdued enough where mother would mistake it for emotion instead of just being tired.

"Nelah has lunch ready, so when you're dressed and awake, just come and meet us there."

"Okay,"

Mother ruffled his hair one more time and then left, closing the door behind her. Sirrus didn't get out of bed immediately, wishing instead to go back to sleep, and knowing that wasn't an option. He looked forward to the day where he could work by his own schedule again. He rose and dressed, brushing his hair in front of a mirror. Long hair too was inconvenient, but it was a small price to pay for the eventual ability to Write.

Lunch in Tay this afternoon was the same as it had been for the past two weeks. Sirrus found he enjoyed the routine as well as the food, which was an excellent contrast from the tasteless plants in Spire. Then once lunch was finished, mother was called away by one of the relatives…Sirrus couldn't keep track of which, there were so many people on Tay and he had little desire to memorize names…and he was left alone with Nelah.

She was a strange woman, he thought not for the first time, watching her put the dishes away after lunch. She was one of mother's closest friends, yet Sirrus never heard her name mentioned before. She was part of a rebel faction on Riven…who knew Riven had rebels?...but Sirrus never would have known if he hadn't seen the memory of her speaking to that woman the first day he spent in Tay. She seemed settled, content with what life brought her.

But the rebellion that mother spoke of had been fifteen, twenty years ago. No one remained the same over such a long period of time. It made sense that even rebels would settle when there was nothing to rebel against.

"Yeesha," Nelah said, beckoning for Sirrus to come. "Tomorrow, you leave. Today, is there…would you like…" she paused, looking down at the sink, frustrated. "Anything you would like to see before leaving?" Nelah finally inquired. The language barrier was a difficult thing indeed, and Sirrus made a mental note to be certain that everyone he Wrote into his Ages in the future would speak the same language as he would.

"Can I see the book again?" he inquired.

Nelah hesitated, a cup dangling off her forefinger. She went to say something, sighed, went to say something else, and finally decided on putting the cup in the sink and drying her hands off. "Again?"

"Yes,"

Another sigh, and then finally she nodded and opened the door, indicating for Sirrus to follow.

The main hive was full of activity at midday, people moving through the roots, every once in awhile stopping and waving at him and Nelah. He smiled at them but didn't wave back, just as he had every day. Nelah stopped several times during their trip to talk to people, talking animatedly in their language, then realizing that he didn't understand and continuing along the way.

There was no one in the room where the books were kept. He was surprised at first, but mother reminded him that most of the citizens of Tay wanted little to do with linking books and other worlds after what happened on Riven. She said this very gently, holding his hand and assuring him that when he was older, she would tell him everything that took place on Riven, but for now he should just know and be happy knowing that the people were safe.

Nelah smiled when they entered, gesturing around the room. There weren't very many books, hardly enough to fill even one bookshelf. A few were mother's old Ages, ones she preferred to keep here instead of Tomahna. There were books to Tomahna, Myst, and…and one, only one, to Riven. It was on the top shelf when Sirrus first came here, and Nelah had brought it down so he could look at it. It was in the middle shelf now.

He wanted to wave his hand to dismiss Nelah but couldn't do that anymore. So instead he smiled and nodded at her and she smiled in response, sitting at a chair near the entrance. Sirrus preferred to be alone, but Yeesha was only ten and clearly no one thought she was capable of doing anything completely unsupervised yet. Sirrus would have told them otherwise, back on Spire, but neither of them would have listened.

He chuckled for a moment, wondering what their reaction would be if he had told them of that one time she actually snuck to Spire to visit him. He remembered the horn going off that day at the strangest time, and was surprised to find Yeesha sitting alone in the linking cage, twisting her hands together on the strap of her bag. She said she wanted to see him but dad wouldn't let her go alone, and she didn't care, she wanted to see him anyway. She just wouldn't tell dad if he promised not to tell either. It would be their…their secret.

At that moment, he almost believed she was his sister.

"You are laughing?"

Nelah's voice was surprising and shook Sirrus from his thoughts. The look on her face was strange, an emotion Sirrus couldn't decipher. Then much to his surprise Nelah stood and walked over to him, then put her arms around him and pulled him close, stroking his hair.

"You are a brave, strong child," Nelah whispered. "That you can still laugh now, after everything you saw. Oh, Yeesha, you will grow and be strong like your mother is. And we will all be…" she hesitated, trying to find the right word. "Proud." She finished, swallowing hard. "Very."

Sirrus was unsure of what to do. For a moment, he couldn't think of what Yeesha would have done. Concentrate, you fool, concentrate, or you'll never learn how to Write. Yeesha would have…

She was a caring, compassionate child. She would try to make this woman feel better. So he returned the embrace and waited until she broke it. Nelah patted his cheek. Sirrus smiled, squeezed her hand, and then went to get the Riven book again.

The people of Tay cared immensely for Yeesha. How many other worlds did, worlds that Sirrus had never seen or heard the name of? He would learn soon enough.

Sirrus ran his hand over the Riven book and opened it, staring down at the linking panel. There was nothing in it now but static. He remembered when he and Achenar were younger, how often they tried to steal a glance at mother's book to Riven, looking at the linking panel then and seeing a blue sky over a lush island. Mother always yearned to go back there, to see her family and her people, yet it was impossible because of something their grandfather had did. Sirrus remembered seeing mother sit in the library at times, early in the morning or late at night, staring at the book and smoothing the corners of the pages countless times, sometimes crying, sometimes whispering things in another language, then putting the book back and going to bed.

Sirrus was surprised at how much he remembered upon leaving Spire. There were so many thoughts and memories that seemed to slip through his fingers during his years there, yet now he had little problem recalling various moments in Myst, in Aspermere, in Everdunes. It was strange and unsettling the way the air of Tomahna or the lights through the branches of Tay's hive made him remember. It made him fear what more he would have lost had he stayed on Spire until he died, and made him even more certain that the choice he made was the right one.

Staring at the page covered in static, though, that focused him. He kept slipping into those thoughts, moments of contemplation like he did so often on Spire to pass the time and try not to forget who he was. There would be no time for that anymore, for there was too much to learn. This page helped. Seeing Riven…no, _not _seeing Riven, that was it. The fact that this place had once been a living, breathing world that his family had cared about, and…

Twenty years passed by on Spire and nothing changed. And what did he expect, the rest of the world to remain unchanged as well? That was foolish. He had been such an idiot to think that. Yet he assumed the changes that would happen were manageable, that he would be able to adapt to them. But he was never prepared to hear that his family lived in a place called Tomahna now and Myst Island was abandoned…the place he called home, that his family once did…and they were content to throw it away, that home nothing more than a book to gather dust on the shelf. Spire, too, and Haven…books, to be locked away and forgotten in favor of _progress. _

Riven, too, Riven had died. It was a place he had never seen, though he and Achenar tried countless times to sneak there, though they had peered through the crystal viewer in the bitter cold of Rime to glimpse swaying palm trees, a blue sky, a rope bridge across a canyon. The place mother called home. And after twenty years that world too had faded to nothing, its inhabitants now living in this place, the Riven book resting on the shelf as if it never was.

Sirrus would keep the Riven book with him, because he despised the static in the window just as much as he did his father for building Tomahna, as mother for thinking that a little greenhouse full of white lilies could be greater than the trees on Myst Island, as that stranger, a woman he barely knew, yet was more family than he and Achenar ever were.

But no! He would deal with them _later. _Eventually mother and father would die, just as the woman and Achenar did, as he assumed Yeesha had, or would. But what was most important now was Writing. Everything else could _wait._

So he smoothed down the end of the page and watched the patterns of the static on the dead linking panel.

* * *

The sun beat down on the small group gathered in the desert. In front of them was a grave, the dirt and sand fresh over it, flowers from mother's garden scattered on top. The wind blew gently through their hair and it was a pleasant day for the middle of summer.

The woman's parents were standing slightly apart from Sirrus, mother, and father. Her mother was kneeling by the grave, tears streaming freely down her face as she clutched a bouquet of flowers. She hadn't looked at Sirrus ever since they arrived earlier that day. She barely looked at mother and father, consumed by grief as she was.

"Tu digame ella esta muerte? Como puede esto pasar? Ella viene para visitarle cada ano, y nunca fue hecha duele antes de," the woman whispered to the grave, not willing to let go over the flowers yet. She held them in one hand and pressed the other to the dirt, as if that would somehow connect her with her dead child. No one else was moving.

Sirrus looked at the mountains in the distance, at the sky, then at Tomahna, not too far from where they stood. The sky seemed almost an unnatural shade of blue, too vivid and bright, showing the outline of each leaf of the trees in the distance. But he couldn't tell if it was because the sky here was different from Myst, or if skies had always been that way and he had been gone for so long that he forgot.

"Maria," father began, bringing everyone's attention to the present. "Was one of the bravest people I knew. There was much she was afraid of, but she faced those fears and kept going, when many of us would have stopped. Her determination and caring nature touched so many lives, and…"

"She did," Maria's mother…Sirrus forgot her name already…choked out. "She was a great teacher. Her students, every year, they would give her something…at the end...end of the year." She wiped her eyes with the back of the hand holding the flowers. "Last year they bought her a poster for her classroom. It was _Fiddler on the Roof. _Her favorite musical."

Sirrus did not know what that was, but mother and father seemed to, for they nodded knowingly at the woman.

"She used to sing that to Yeesha when she was young. Do you remember that, Yeesha?" Mother asked, putting a hand on Sirrus' shoulder. "You must have been only four years old…Maria started visiting every year when you were almost two…you had trouble sleeping and she would sing you that one song…" Mother closed her eyes for a moment and her hand found Sirrus', giving it a squeeze. "Is this the little girl I carried…" she sang softly.

"Is this the little boy at play?" the woman joined in, her voice cracking.

"I don't remember growing older, when did they?" the two women sang together. They did not have the best voices but it didn't matter to them.

"You remember the words," mother whispered. "Sing with us."

Sirrus didn't know the song. There was too much of Yeesha's life he still didn't know, things he didn't think to ask her about, that he couldn't infer. There was too much he didn't even understand…her life was nothing like hers. She never ran across Everdunes with Achenar with half of Pran's people chasing after them, she didn't stand in the upper reaches of Channelwood and hear the shrieking of its inhabitants and Achenar's wild giggle shortly following. And Sirrus, he…he never looked at father and called him "dad" and still couldn't imagine it. How were they part of the same family, he wondered.

It didn't matter. Yeesha was gone now, and Sirrus would learn. He still had her necklace, the damn thing that kept glowing at every moment, showing him memories of this life here at Tomahna, of father and Yeesha, of mother at the stove, of Maria…yes, of Maria sitting in Yeesha's room, tucking her in, singing that song they were now.

It would be enough to learn. And it would take more effort now, he saw. He spoke little since they arrived back in Tomahna, but mother and father assumed it was because of all the terrible…what was the word they kept using?..._tragedies _that he had witnessed. But it would not last this way forever. Life would…

Life would move on, Sirrus thought, because it always did. He wanted to tell this crying woman that, he wanted to shake her and tell her that five years from now, no one would remember Maria's name, that her second graders would have a new teacher to give presents to, for that was how life seemed to work. People died. People disappeared. People were trapped far away from home, from family, from everything…and then forgotten. It would be no different with this woman.

It would be different when he wrote. There would be no forgetting there. He would write hundreds of Ages and leave his name there, his mark…even a thousand years after he died, the inhabitants there would still whisper his name in their morning prayer.

The thought made his hands twitch with anticipation, and he suddenly felt that everything was going far too slowly. These past few days certainly had, with the events that took place in Serenia surrounding them all, hanging hazily over their heads and confusing their thoughts. But now it was time to move on. Now it was time to start what he meant to start.

Today, he would stay with them at the funeral and cry just like the rest, watching the flowers rest on the grave of a woman he never knew. Then tonight he would go to sleep early, just as Yeesha would, and then tomorrow…he would go to father and ask for Yeesha's workbook and trace the D'ni letters carefully until the ink ran together and he was too tired to keep his eyes open any longer.

He didn't remember the words, but mother did, and the woman did, and so did father…and all three of them sang, matching pitch as best they could. Sirrus didn't know the words but he picked up quickly on the melody, humming it along with them.

"Sunrise, sunset, sunrise, sunset, swiftly flow the days…seedlings turn overnight to sunflowers blossoming even as we gaze…"

They continued the song, voices carrying on the wind across the desert and mingling with the dust.


	4. Crossing

Caradell had already made up her mind. She sat in the back by the window, her hands folded in her lap, looking outside at the clear sky. Moiri and Raeane kept looking at each other, waiting for the other to make a decision. Anya felt for a moment that they would be standing in this hall forever, judging from the unsure looks on the twins' faces. Zanika was pacing back and forth, shaking her head and staring at Yannin's amulet as if it were something dangerous. None of them had spoken in the last ten minutes.

Yannin was stiff at Anya's side, and when Anya touched her hand, it was shaking. Anya wanted to reassure her but couldn't.

"Well," Zanika said, just to break the silence. "Well. I suppose…Yannin, it isn't that I don't believe you, I just…I find this all…difficult to believe."

"Difficult?" Caradell interrupted, turning from the window. "Difficult is a child watching the leaves fall in autumn and the wind carrying them away, and not understanding why the leaves fall. Memories this serious and strange that the rest of us have not seen is…is more than difficult. It is impossible. Why would the ancestors choose only to show you, then, if it is true?"

"Why do the ancestors ever choose to do what they do?" Anya offered. "They showed us little of the events while they were unfolding, my sister. The task always fell to the woman, and we were merely there to help her along."

"I know that," Caradell said sharply. "But we all knew and saw that. I have not seen these memories nor found any evidence of Yeesha in Dream."

Anya wanted to say something about how Yeesha was closer to her than any of the other Protectors and that could be why, and that Caradell never _looked _for those memories, and that Caradell was the wind that blew west no matter what, and if something changed in the east, she'd continue blowing west and never think to look in that other direction. But she didn't come here to be rude, that was not a Protector's place.

"I understand," Anya said, making an effort to stay calm despite the tight grip of Yannin's hand on her wrist. "But now that we have brought out discoveries to you, my sisters, we hope that you too will look and…" and what? Tell this to Atrus? He had always been skeptical of the workings of Dream. There was a chance that he wouldn't believe her, either, even when it was too important to ignore.

"And think of what we can do," Yannin spoke up, her voice sounding timid and unsure in the hall, yet at the same time determined. "We can't just leave this family to…the…consequences of what…" she struggled to find the right words, and Anya gave her hand an encouraging squeeze. "We have to help them. No matter what anyone says, Yeesha is part of Serenia too, like we are. She can Dream, like we can. That makes her a sister, and we have to help a sister in trouble."

Zanika stopped her pacing and stared at Yannin for a long moment. Then she nodded.

"Yannin is right. We can't ignore what they have seen, even if it frightens us. Let us have time to Dream and see what wisdom the ancestors will share with us. We will meet again in a week." She handed Yannin's amulet back to her.

Caradell pinched her lips together and beckoned to Zanika. Zanika sighed but followed and the two of them settled to conversing in the corner in low voices. Raeane left, saying something about her brother. Moiri glanced at Zanika and Caradell and looked for a moment like she was going to follow her sister, but in the end came over to Yannin and Anya.

"I believe you," Moiri said quietly. "Raeane doesn't…she thinks, no offense, that you are trying to cause trouble." Moiri looked apologetically at Yannin, who dropped her eyes. "But I know you, Anya, and even though you worry more than the rest of us, you never worry about anything unless it is important. And you've never lied, all the time I've known you. But they are frightened, you must understand. They wanted this to be over, and now that you bring it up again…"

"I know," Anya replied. "But if we don't do anything…the last time we didn't do anything, look what happened,"

"You must stop blaming yourself for the stranger's death," Moiri said, her voice sharper this time. "There was nothing any of us could have done. The last task fell to her, and what could we have done, short of following her around every moment and guiding her hand over everything she touched?"

"I know, but…"

"Eventually you will realize that you've done all you can." Moiri touched Anya's forehead. "But for now, know that I believe you, and will support you in the coming week. I will try to convince my sister as well, but you know how close she is to Caradell."

"I do. Thank you, Moiri."

The older sister nodded at both of them and then left. Yannin did, too, and Anya scurried to catch up to her. Yannin walked over to where the mosaic and stood there, facing away from the Hall, twirling a lock of hair around her finger for a moment before shaking her head and letting her hands fall to her sides.

Anya stood next to her and stared down at the mosaic. She had seen it a thousand times before, yet for some reason today it held her interest, too. Water…everything was connected by water, she told Yeesha once. Where had that girl gone, the one who stared down with her and spoke of how beautiful that was, who held her hand and fed the butterflies with her while the sun rose?

She had to find out, and she had to save that girl.

"What if they don't believe us after that week?" Yannin asked. "I mean, Moiri does, and Zanika might, but Caradell's the oldest Protector and everyone holds her words in such high regard."

"Caradell may be the oldest but she is also stubborn and set in her ways, and if she thinks something is finished, nothing will persuade her to look at it again." Anya blinked, surprised that she had said that out loud. But it was true, and she realized that she had known it was true all her life but never said anything. There was a lot she thought but never voiced, and…

She glanced at Yannin. No matter how awkward it may come out or how childish and foolish it may seem, Yannin always said what she was thinking. Many of the sisters, including Anya, had chalked it up to her being young and too exuberant and not taking her duties yet as seriously as she should. But maybe Yannin, in that youth, was the wisest of them all, knowing she looked foolish but saying what she believed anyway.

Anya never thought that before.

"But the others…" Yannin's finger began twirling her hair again.

"It is a start that Moiri believes," Anya said. "And if she can convince Raeane, then the others will follow. And we will do something this time." Anya folded her hands in her lap. "We will, Yannin. We won't just sit back and let others do the work and let innocent people die."

"Yes," Yannin agreed. "And if the others don't believe us in the end, then we will do something anyway, right?"

"Right," Anya replied, surprised at herself for agreeing, but not regretting that she said it. "We will."

* * *

Weeks passed, and the other Protectors saw nothing. The memories that Yannin saw faded from their various points around Serenia, leaving her frustrated, her amulet silent in her hand. She tried to find Yeesha in Dream, like Anya had, but was frustrated to find nothing. She told Anya this, and Anya's normally worried face pinched together in an even more worried expression.

"That is a problem," Anya said, staring at the sky. "If…no, that's impossible, why am I the only one to see it?"

"I don't know,"

"Maybe you should look harder. We are the only ones to have seen anything, and since you know, there's no reason that you shouldn't see too…"

"I'll try,"

"I trust you will." Anya finished. "I must meet Aldiren today, but I will come find you tonight, and we will Dream together."

Yannin nodded and the two embraced before going off on their separate paths. Anya spent the morning with Aldiren before he grew too tired and decided to go back to the village. That left her with a great deal of time on her hands, so she decided to go to the square and feed the butterflies. She hadn't done it in awhile and it was relaxing.

The day was warm and quiet as she tossed the seeds in the air and watched the butterflies swoop to get them.

"Anya!"

She was expecting Yannin, but it wasn't Yannin; instead she turned around as Yeesha came barreling around the corner and into the square, her long hair in a tight braid flying behind her. She was waving wildly and grinning, and her father came up the path a short while after her, putting his hands on his hips and looking around the square.

Yeesha barreled into Anya, knocking the seeds out of her hands and spilling them across the floor.

"Hi!" Yeesha said once Anya regained her balance. Then she glanced down at the seeds. "Oops,"

"That's alright, they're just seeds," Anya replied. "We can always get more." She swept them up into her hand and put them back into the container.

"Well, I'll help you get them!" Yeesha's voice sounded bright and enthusiastic, just as it always did. "I was so hoping that you would be here. I was worried that you wouldn't…I mean…it would be nice seeing Moiri again but I missed you _so _much and wanted to see you again because it's been _months! _Did you miss me, too?" She looked expectantly at Anya.

Months of low whispers with Yannin in the courtyard, their joint plans and ideas, fell short in the face of Yeesha actually standing here, hands clasped in front of her. Anya felt like she should do something, but didn't know what to do. She touched Yeesha's spirit a thousand times in Dream and still knew little. All she could see was flashes of memories…the house in Tomahna, other people in a place called Releeshahn, Atrus, Catherine…but the pictures were not enough to help Anya know what to do. Occasionally there was a brief flash of emotion on the rare days she managed to get closer to the spirit, and those emotions were a whirlwind of fear, confusion, and an edge of panic. Those days frustrated Anya the most, and she would have cried, had spirits been able to.

"I missed you very much," she heard herself say calmly. "It has been too long, and we were all getting quite worried." She stood up and nodded to Atrus who smiled back, though it was a thin, tight smile. Anya handed Yeesha the bowl of seeds and scrubbed her hands on her dress. Yeesha took the bowl and started tossing the seeds to the butterflies as if nothing was wrong.

"Anya," Atrus said. "Can I speak to you for a moment?"

"Of course," Anya replied, standing up and glancing at Yeesha again. She followed Atrus as he moved several paces away, out of Yeesha's hearing range. "What is it?"

"First, I would like to apologize for being absent so long," He began. "I didn't think it would be a good idea for Yeesha to return here so soon after the tragedy. But she insisted, and Catherine and I decided maybe it would be best for her. She knew you before everything happened, and cared about you very much. Serenia is…part of her."

"It is," Anya agreed. "Yeesha was wise beyond her years."

"And still is," Atrus added. "She has shown incredible amounts of courage these past few months. She wanted to return, and I…I trust her in your hands." He finished.

Anya turned around, acutely aware at that moment of Yeesha watching her. As soon as she met the girl's eyes, Yeesha turned back around and continued tossing seeds.

"Thank you, Atrus," Anya replied, clasping her hands together in front of her. "It means…a great deal to hear this from you. I will make certain that Yeesha is always safe in the hands of the Protectors."

Atrus looked relieved and momentarily relaxed until a shout from the stairs into the temple made them both turn around.

"Yannin!" Anya opened her arms. "I am happy that you are here to join us."

Yannin stood frozen on the steps, her mouth half open in what she was about to say before she saw Atrus and Yeesha. Anya tensed, too, afraid that Yannin was going to say or do something foolish. Instead, Yannin smiled, too, and nodded to both of them. She walked down the steps and greeted Atrus before standing next to Anya, so close their shoulders were touching. Anya brushed her fingers over the back of Yannin's hand in what she hoped was reassurance.

"Good afternoon, Atrus," Yannin said. "I wasn't expecting either of you today." Her voice betrayed otherwise, but Atrus didn't know Yannin enough to recognize those things.

"Yeesha wanted to surprise you," Atrus explained. "I don't believe we've met before, miss…"

"Yannin,"

"Well, it is nice to meet you now."

Yannin smiled and nodded but didn't know what else to say and kept glancing in Anya's direction, waiting for instruction. Anya didn't know either, and there was a long moment of awkward glances before Yeesha interrupted them.

"Out of seeds," she said, holding the basket out to Anya. "There's a lot of butterflies today."

"They're always here during this time of year," Anya replied, taking the empty basket.

"Yannin!" Yeesha then enthusiastically threw her arms around Yannin, and the younger Protector stiffened in her embrace. "I missed you too! I thought I'd never see _either _of you again and you're both here now, isn't that wonderful? Thank you for bringing me here today, daddy!"

"Thank you for coming," Yannin replied, removing Yeesha's arms from around her waist. "It has been too long, really. Anya, could I talk to you for a moment?"

"Of course," Anya didn't miss Yannin's significant look. "It won't take long, Atrus," Anya assured him.

"After that, can you take me to the balloon platform?" Yeesha asked. "I want to blow into the horn and see if I can call a balloon now."

"We'll see," Anya replied. She smiled and nodded at Yeesha, then followed Yannin over to where the other two couldn't hear. "What is it? What did you see?"

"We're right," Yannin replied, her voice tight with fear. "Everything we've been guessing? My spirit guide confirmed it. I found Yeesha's spirit…that is the first time I ever saw her, you know. But I finally did. Then I saw them coming…Atrus and…Sirrus…and Yeesha, she was with me, oh, Anya, I felt such confusion and sadness. She missed her father and wanted desperately to talk to him but couldn't, and she was terrified because she knew that even if she could it would never work. She didn't know why. I don't know how aware she is that she is trapped in Dream, but she is aware that she's trapped." Yannin covered her face, my momentarily overtaken by the emotion she felt. Anya understood, having felt similar emotions from Yeesha's spirit recently as well. It took all the strength of Anya, her guide, and several other ancestors in Dream to coax anything out of the lost spirit, but when they did, it was often a chaotic torrent of emotion. Anya was used to it now, but it was terrible and jarring at first.

She put her arm around Yannin and held her while she took several breaths to calm herself down.

"I found her first, and was so…I guess…I was excited that I found her!" She whispered fiercely. "Because then you weren't the only one anymore. Me and my guide and my aunt were all there, too, and that's how I found out it was Yeesha. After that I saw Atrus and Sirrus coming, and Yeesha saw it too and she missed her father and was angry at her brother but didn't know why. It's true. That isn't Yeesha."

Anya took a deep breath. They had known this for some time, of course, but that didn't stop it from being any less shocking when it was confirmed yet again.

"But if we know that," Anya said slowly. "Then maybe we know how to reverse the process?" But none of them knew how, since the old memory chamber where everything took place was locked and it was too much of a risk to go inside. Neither of them knew how it was possible to transfer spirits from one living person to another, and it was such a perversion that no one gave it more thought than that.

Maybe they had to.

"What are we going to do? Atrus deserves to know." Yannin insisted, glancing back over at them.

"I don't know," Anya admitted. She hated not knowing, she should know, she was older than Yannin and therefore should have some idea of what to do! "I will…I will stay with Yeesha for the day. Maybe I can discover something new. Yeesha was always closer to me, and if that Sirrus knows anything, he'll know that. But I know Yeesha more than he ever did."

"And I will stay with Atrus?"

Anya nodded. "And…" She hesitated for a moment, glancing back at the other two, who weren't paying attention to the two Protector's discussions. Yeesha was pointing out something to Atrus and explaining it, from what little bit Anya picked up. "It _is _a perversion, ancestors forgive me, but it is something that can be done. If they know how to do it, then we should know, too. If we know, we can…" the idea was too terrible to contemplate and Anya was ashamed for even suggesting it.

"Then we can set it all right again," Yannin whispered. Anya met Yannin's eyes…they were serious and dark, and this was the first time Anya could ever remember Yannin looking like that. "What was done was wrong. If we use the same method to put it right, I cannot see the ancestors being angry with us."

"Either way…"

"I will ask them first before I search for any information."

Anya smiled. It was hard to think it was only a few months since the crisis, seeing them both like this. She touched Yannin's forehead and nodded. Then they walked back over to the two and Yeesha waved vigorously.

"Sorry," Anya said.

"It's okay," Yeesha chirped. "It was important Protector stuff, wasn't it?"

"Yes," Anya nodded.

"But couldn't I listen then, too?"

Anya and Yannin exchanged glances.

"Not with your father here," Yannin replied. She looked at Atrus. "Sorry."

"It's not a problem," Atrus said.

There was a moment of tense silence before Anya held her hand out to Yeesha. "You said you wanted to see the balloon platform?" Anya asked.

"Yes!"

"Then let's go, and I'll let you call on the horn this time." Anya gave one more glance to Yannin, and Yannin gave the tiniest of nods before they separated.

* * *

For a moment, Sirrus believed the Protectors knew something. That, of course, was foolish, because the Protectors were no more intelligent now than they had been before. He and Achenar had worked on building the secret entry to the old memory chamber every single night and they had never noticed. Perhaps he was just being paranoid, which was likely, as he detested being in Serenia again. It was necessary to come, of course...if he was to properly play Yeesha, he had to go often to Serenia. She was too deeply twined with this world to let it go now. He would have to come back here someday anyway, once he had finished learning the Art, to get his body back.

He wanted to find it today, make sure nothing had gone wrong. The only problem was this Protector following him.

"This isn't the way to the balloon dock," the Protector said, interrupting Sirrus from his thoughts. He stopped and she nearly ran into him, putting a hand on his shoulder to steady herself. Sirrus blinked and paused, realizing that he had been too deep in thought to realize where he was going. He was heading towards the new memory chamber, Maker only knew why, and that wasn't anywhere near the balloon dock.

"Sorry," he replied. "I forgot."

"Where you were going?" the Protector asked.

"Yeah," Sirrus nodded. "And what I wanted to see. I wanted to call the balloons but then I remembered the new memory chamber and I really wanted to see that again too and then just kind of started walking there. Except I shouldn't have done that because you're a real Protector for years and I haven't been Dreaming as long as you, right?"

The Protector…Anya, he corrected himself, because it was important to remember their names…smiled. "You are as much a Protector as the rest of us are," she replied. "Of course I'll take you into the chamber."

This wasted time, and Sirrus cursed himself for not thinking. He was limited in everything now because Yeesha was too young to do anything on her own time.

Anya opened the door to the chamber and walked inside. Sirrus followed, blinking against the blue lights that adorned the walls. The blue shined on Anya's face and made the streak of paint stand out even more. Anya stood there and took several deep breaths and a brief smile flitted across her face. She didn't find the scent of the chamber as cloyingly sweet as Sirrus did.

"What did you want to see here?" asked Anya.

"I just wanted to be here again. It reminds me of…" Sirrus' voice trailed off as he found the rough wooden stairs that led to the top of the chamber. He followed them and stood, staring at the stone bench and ancestor stone held in place with ropes that were tougher than they looked.

The amulet hummed and glowed in time with Anya's as she came up behind him. She touched hers and closed her eyes, shaking her head. "There are too many memories here," Anya remarked. "What do you see?"

Yeesha did not find this amulet a waste of time, and therefore he couldn't, either. He still planned on destroying it when this was all finished, as he had no use for it. He brushed his hand against the amulet and found the expected memory of the bewildered woman lying on the bench while one of the other Protectors leaned over her and said, "are you ready?"

Protectors, Sirrus thought, were a terrible waste of time when one really thought of it.

"Maria," Sirrus replied. "She was here, looking for me when Achenar trapped me in Dream. She was brave to do that. Really brave. She was braver than I could be, and I knew more about Dream than her."

Anya smiled. "She was," Anya held out her hand and Sirrus took it. "We've honored her and will remember her always. She is one of the first who wasn't Serenian whose name will go down in our histories forever."

Sirrus wanted to laugh. The Protectors barely knew her name and constantly called her 'the woman.' Yeesha, however, never thought the Protectors could lie, so Sirrus had to ignore it.

"Now can we call the balloons?" Sirrus asked. He glanced back at the stone bench and cultivated a frown, and a moment later, a misty film of tears formed in his eyes. "I don't want to be here anymore. It makes me wish Maria was still alive."

When he spoke that way at home, mother usually hugged him tight and then made tea. They would sit at the kitchen table with the tea and it was warm, both the tea and the kitchen, and Sirrus felt like he could sit forever in the lasting warmth of the fire. When he was finished learning the Art, every Age he wrote would be warm. When he spoke this way to father, father grew sad and distant, and he would hold out his hand to Sirrus and they would walk through Tomahna and speak of better times. Sometimes father would even tell him a story. Sirrus never knew father was capable of such creative stories, and he wondered if it came with years of being friends with Maria, or mother's influence…or Yeesha, the little desert bird, the rainstorm in the middle of the desert who brought happiness wherever she went. She was creative and bright and could have been great, perhaps, in another time and place.

But there was none of that sad, dreamy reflection in Anya's face. There were hard lines on the Protector's forehead that didn't belong there and were out of place with her normally peaceful eyes and soothing voice.

"Anya?"

Anya pursed her lips and nodded, looking straight ahead. "I am sure you do miss her," Anya replied. "I have no doubt about that. You two were close. But as long as she is not forgotten, she will live on among us." Anya started walking down the stairs and Sirrus followed, relieved that conversation seemed to be taking a normal turn. "But let me ask you," Anya continued. "I did not know Maria as well as you did, having only seen her in Dream and met her briefly. Tell me more about her so I can know her as you did."

They emerged into daylight and Sirrus blinked in the bright sun. He glanced at Anya and she looked back, one eyebrow raised and her head tilted expectantly.

"Well…" Sirrus began, trotting down the path. He closed his eyes and tried to think of a memory he had seen. There were countless lying around Tomahna, and the annoying ring of the amulet refused to let him ignore it. But right now his mind was blank and he couldn't come up with anything. "There's so much I don't know where to begin."

"Begin anywhere," Anya replied lightly.

_Think of something, damn you! What is wrong with you that you can't remember? How many times did you wander around Tomahna when you couldn't sleep, hearing the amulet's noise and the voice of the dead woman? Surely you can remember at least one of those moments!_

"Having trouble thinking of something?" Anya's voice seemed slightly more insistent now, her eyes sharper, lips pursed. "You told me countless times how close you were."

"I know I did," Sirrus replied. "And that's why it's hard to think of something."

"Really," Anya's eyes narrowed and met Sirrus'. "I am sure that is why you can't think of it."

"Because there's too much to remember. I want to make sure I think of the right moment to tell you about."

"You never had this much trouble before telling me of your life and adventures, and you talked of Maria almost all the time."

"Yeah, I did, but it's hard now 'cause I miss her, and mom and dad don't like to talk about her anymore."

"All the more reason for you to keep her memory alive by speaking of the times you had together." They were nearly at the balloon platform but Anya was walking slower.

Sirrus' mind was still blank. He gripped the amulet hard with his other hand, feeling the hard edge cut into his palm. The amulet didn't hum under his fingers and offer him any memories, and Anya…her face was hard, her eyes suspicious, her mouth pressed in a thin line. Their eyes met, then, and Sirrus let the amulet fall from his hands and for a moment neither of them moved.

_She knows._

In that moment, he was completely certain of that fact. He didn't know how she could possibly have learned…as far as Sirrus knew, Yeesha's spirit was forever trapped in Dream and she couldn't communicate. Spirits could only speak with others when they were actually dead, not separated from one's body. He had effectively covered all his tracks and studied Yeesha every moment she had been to Spire. There was no possible way she could have learned anything.

He didn't know how she could have known. But she did.

"Any memories?" Anya asked, then, though her voice was hard and her posture stiff and defensive.

The clarity of the moment broke through Sirrus' blankness and he found a memory with ease, wondering why he couldn't find it a moment before.

"Fath—dad's been teaching me D'ni for a year now." He mentally cursed himself for the slip, but let none of it show on his face. "Maria sort of knew too. She picked up a bunch of words over the years but was really bad at it…she could never pronounce anything exactly right and couldn't write it at all. She'd spill ink all over her hand dad would get mad 'cause it would make stains. But one morning we were both up really early and walked out into the desert before mom and dad got up, and she said to me the only thing she knew how to say perfectly in D'ni…_give me the book…_and I don't know why but we just thought that was so funny and sat down in the sand laughing. I still don't know why it was funny. But it _was._"

Anya smiled, then looked away and started walking again. "That is a very nice memory," she said after a time. "Thank you for sharing that to me. The balloon should be here in a few minutes, and then we can be on our way to the village." Anya's voice was monotone, and she didn't look at Sirrus in the eye anymore.

Sirrus stayed silent while they waited for the balloon. Anya's knowledge posed a great threat, yet Sirrus was unable to do anything about it. His first instinct was to kill her, but he couldn't do that…it would be worse than allowing her to live with this knowledge. But that was all he could do, let her live.

The question was, however, what could Anya _do _with this knowledge. Tell father? Sirrus shook his head. Father would never believe a story so absurd. Tell the other Serenians? They foolishly followed their tradition and were oblivious when he and Achenar worked right under their noses years ago. There was little they could do now. Father was never close to the Serenians, either, so it was unlikely the damage could come from them.

It seemed there was nothing she could do, no consequence of her being allowed to live. So he gave a tiny shrug and shook off that thought pattern, watching the balloon come down and getting in with Anya. The balloon took off and Sirrus stood there at the balcony, relishing the warm wind and bright sun and deciding that the sun on the clear water was one of the first things he would put in his first Age.

* * *

Yannin never worked well with people. Whenever she was with someone older and more important, she always stammered and shied away from conversation, knowing she was going to say something stupid and ruin the whole thing. Her favorite thing about being a Protector was that the ancestors were infinitely forgiving about that sort of thing. Her spirit guide always told her that nothing she said was stupid, it was unique to her and meant something in her voice and her mind.

It gave her comfort in Dream, but not so much now, when she was standing awkwardly with Atrus in the courtyard after Anya had taken Yeesha and left. Atrus didn't know her and didn't know what to say, and Yannin wasn't the best conversationalist with people she didn't know. She left conversation to her older sisters and went off and did something useful, hoping that one day she wouldn't say something idiotic every time she opened her mouth.

Still, after five or so minutes of this, Yannin was beginning to wonder if idiotic was better than awkward silence.

"So," Yannin said finally, taking a deep breath. "How has…Yeesha been adjusting to home life?" it was a boring, uninspired question and she knew it.

"She's been doing wonderfully, of course," Atrus replied. "She just keeps to herself more and concentrates harder on her studies. She spends almost all her time studying and practicing her letters now." Atrus sighed. "I am worried that this experience was too much for her and she doesn't…"

"What?"

"That these events hurt her so much that she matured too fast and is older than she should be. She's only ten, you know. Girls her age shouldn't be studying and practicing that much."

Yannin hesitated. "It is quite strange," she agreed.

"Her writing is good, don't get me wrong," Atrus added quickly. "But it is just…the intensity startles me. It makes me wish…everything could have been different here because then she would still be…"

"Yeesha," Yannin said before she could stop herself. She tensed up, waiting for the confused look Atrus would give her and further questioning.

"Yes." Atrus replied. "She grew old before her time, and I can only hope someday she will remember that she should be a girl again."

"Oh. Of course." Yannin agreed. Atrus was looking at the sky, so Yannin stole a glance at his face. No, he was just sad about Yeesha growing up. He didn't know anything.

He didn't know _anything._

Sirrus was clearly doing a good job acting as Yeesha. There was no reason he would suspect anything. The rest of the Protectors didn't even think anything of it or believe her, so why would Atrus know?

He had the right to know.

Anya would be very, very unhappy. So would the rest of the Protectors, come to think of it. But there was no reason Atrus should be kept in the dark when it came to knowledge about his own children.

"Atrus?"

"Yes?"

Yannin took a deep breath. She had to do this because no one else would, right? "I need to talk to you about something."

"What's that?"

She sighed and twisted a lock of hair around her finger. "It's about your children…all three of them. There have been memories around Serenia and moments in Dream that I have found and studied, and there are several things I need to tell you."

"What are those?" Atrus' voice was wary. She was certain he didn't entirely trust her. "Miss…Yannin, is it?"

"It is. We should sit down."

He was hesitant. "Very well," he said. They took a seat on the bench and Yannin took another deep breath and was surprised to find her nervousness gone. She looked up at the sky and then back at Atrus and felt strangely and completely clear and unafraid. The words were there in her mind and she wouldn't have a problem saying them.

She folded her hands in her lap and began.

* * *

At the end of the day, Anya was relieved. The fourth bell had just rung and she and Yeesha were heading back to the square. Then Yeesha would leave again for an indefinite period of time, and Anya…well, she would continue to worry about Atrus and their family and Yeesha, but would do so now knowing what to expect.

What Anya found strangest of all was the fact that they were both aware of each other, her and Sirrus, aware that the other knew even though neither of them said it. She found she didn't mind, for it was now somewhat easier to act around him. Though they kept up the pretenses of a young girl and her mentor, they regarded each other with suspicion and spent most of the time not speaking unless they had to.

What got in the way of Anya's relief was the fact that she still couldn't do anything about it. She knew and so did he, but neither of it was substantial proof she could bring to the other Protectors. This, though, was still a start. Now that they were aware, the more Atrus kept bringing Yeesha back, the more likely that he would accidentally slip and say something that gave it away. When that happened, Anya would be there and capture the memory and then they would have no choice but to believe.

It was difficult, it had the potential of never happening, but it was more she had to go on than before.

They arrived at the square shortly after fourth bell. The last few steps up to the square, Sirrus took Anya's hand and smiled sweetly up at her. Yes, they had to keep up pretenses, didn't they. Anya hated the idea of deception. It was not a natural state for Protectors.

They climbed the steps and entered the square.

"Yeesha," Atrus said. "Yeesha, come here."

Sirrus let go of Anya's hand and took a step to the side. Anya looked at Atrus' face and stopped entirely. His face was white and his lips pressed together in anger. He held out one hand to Yeesha and for the brief second he looked at Anya, there was closely guarded fury in his eyes.

"What's wrong?" asked Anya. Then she noticed Yannin, standing apart from him. Her hands were clasped tightly together and Anya couldn't tell if she was looking ashamed or angry.

"Come on, Yeesha, we have to go." Atrus insisted. Sirrus walked over to him and stood next to Atrus, and for a moment the confusion on his face was genuine. "We're leaving now. Thank you for your hospitality, Anya, and for your support during this crisis, but I believe we can handle ourselves now."

Atrus took Sirrus' hand and gripped it almost too tight. "Daddy, what's wrong?" Sirrus asked.

"Nothing,"

Atrus was not a good liar either.

"What? Tell me, I can see you're not happy."

"Nothing. Say goodbye to the Protectors, Yeesha, because we're not coming back here for a long time."

"What?"

"What?" Anya echoed.

"Your friend here," Atrus nodded in Yannin's direction. "Told me all sorts of terrible, impossible things about my children, Anya."

It was Anya's turn to go white, and when she met Yannin's face, Yannin didn't meet her eyes.

"What sort of things, Atrus? And why should they make you angry? They may not even be true. We see many possible futures in Dream."

"She said they already took place." Atrus replied stiffly. "She told me that Achenar was killed trying to save Yeesha from Sirrus, who had removed Yeesha's…spirit…from her body and trapped her in Dream. She said that Sirrus was planning on using Yeesha's body for…some sort of terrible end. She said that my child here is not Yeesha, but my dead son, Sirrus. What do you make of that, Anya? I for one can't believe something so absurd is true. Sirrus died on Spire. And Achenar, he…this isn't true, Anya, and I can't believe one of your Protectors would say something like this!"

"She might have gotten confused," Anya insisted, holding out her hands in a placating manner. "There have been many times where we have confused the futures in Dream for things that have happened, or been surprised at people we've seen in real life whom we never met before, but seen their faces…"

"It doesn't matter," Atrus shook his head. "Even if what you say is true, how could you have seen such a thing, when both…both of my sons are dead? It's impossible, and I'm not about to leave my daughter with women spouting impossibilities like that all the time! And now! We're recovering from what happened, and you bring it up again? I'm sorry, but that's too much. I _trusted _you with her life, almost more than anyone else!"

"It's nothing, Atrus," Anya almost pleaded. "Really, it's nothing. Yannin is young, she is confused, you must believe me when I say it meant nothing!"

"She didn't say it like nothing. And I am not about to have lies like this destroying my family again. I am sorry, Anya, I know Yeesha was close to you, but it is too dangerous. I'm going to have to say she's not coming back."

"Not coming _back?" _it was the first time Sirrus spoke up in this entire debate, and for a moment fury flashed across his features. Then they settled into worry and confusion. "Daddy, this is my favorite place, and my friends are here and Anya has so much to teach me! I can't just…not come back!"

"I understand," Atrus replied, calmly to her. "I know it's going to be hard…"

"I'm not just going to go away and not come back! I have to come back!" she continued urgently.

"Yeesha, we can…"

"I _have _to come back!"

"She does," Anya agreed.

"Enough!" Atrus almost shouted, and everyone fell silent, for Atrus was never one to shout. "This is all enough. Yeesha, we're going home now. We can talk about this later. Anya, Yannin," he nodded to both of them. "Don't wait for us." Then he took Yeesha's hand and they walked down the path away from the square.

The moment they left, Anya rounded furiously on Yannin. "What did you _do?" _she shouted, grabbing Yannin by the shoulders and almost shaking her. "Telling him? Spirits, Yannin, that was the stupidest thing you've ever done! I had a plan, you know, and you would have known too if you took two moments to _think _instead of just act on whatever impulse you felt was best and do this! Sirrus knew that I knew what he did, and sooner or later he might have slipped up and said something and I could have captured the memory. Then we'd have proof…solid proof…for both the Protectors _and _Atrus. And now look!" She pointed accusingly at the path. "They're gone, and who knows if they will ever return! Now we might as well give up, because without them here, the memories will fade and no one else will see what we do in Dream and we might as well give up and forget about them altogether!"

"Someone had to do something!" Much to Anya's surprise, Yannin shrugged off Anya's hands and raised her chin, glaring at Anya. "It's better than everyone just sitting around talking about it. At least I _did _something!"

"And by doing something you could very well have ruined it all!"

"But we didn't know that until I did say it." Yannin countered.

"Nonsense. You know what Atrus is like. He's been hesitant about us since the beginning and never believed what we Dreamt was real. Why would this be any different?"

"Because strange things have happened, and I thought maybe because of that he would be willing to accept strange explanations."

Anya turned around and sighed, rubbing her temples. "You were wrong."

"I was." Yannin agreed a moment later. "But I don't take it back."

"Now you don't. Now you are young and impulsive and don't think of the consequences. Soon you will _see _them."

"At least there will be consequences instead of nothing."

There was a long stretch of silence. "We'll see," Anya replied shortly. "There's nothing we can do now but wait and see and hope you didn't…"

"Ruin everything?" Yannin retorted.

"Yes." Anya finished, and having given the last word, she turned and strode down the stairs away from Yannin.

Yannin watched Anya go, then sat back down on the bench. "I don't regret it," she said to no one in particular. "Someone had to do something."

No one answered her, so she leaned back on the bench and waited for fifth bell to ring.


	5. First Age

Sirrus knew nearly every single word for every type of crystal, and a fair amount of words for various weather conditions. He knew how to write clouds and worlds living among the clouds, but right now, he stared at the blank page and could not remember how to write something as simple as a natural path over the water.

Then he realized he shouldn't be thinking like that. There would be time to write Ages as he wished, but right now he had to write what his father expected him to write. Yeesha's mind was dreamy and creative and, if there were crystals at all, they would be intertwined with the Age in a way that they would catch the light and reflect it back across the water.

That was a good idea. He scrawled it down on the notepad next to him and decided he was going to put that in this first age.

He still wanted a path over the water. He also wanted a good deal of elements of Serenia woven into this Age…subtle, yet noticeable if one lingered for long and looked over the passages in the descriptive book. Ever since that regrettable incident, father had not allowed him to return, despite all his pleading and cajoling and plays on mother's guilt. The Serenia book was locked away and many of the things pertaining to that Age taken from Yeesha's room…her cloth, her drawings of Anya, even the little spirit guide statue that Sirrus carved for her a long time ago. Father said it was for the best and it was time for them all to move on.

Sirrus needed to get back to Serenia. He had to make sure everything was still in working order…the sarcophagus, the old memory chamber, the device...if those failed, all of this would be pointless and he would never achieve what he truly wanted. If father kept the linking book locked away…

Sirrus knew on some level father felt guilty about it. He could see it in father's eyes when father looked at the book in his study and sighed at the complicated lock he put around it. He also noticed that father kept the cloth and Yeesha's drawings and sometimes, when it was late and father believed him to be asleep, he would watch father take out the cloth handprint and drape it over his desk while he worked.

If he could fit enough elements in, it would convince father of how much Yeesha missed Serenia and how she should be allowed to go back. And since Yeesha would also be able to Write…there was the potential that father would let her have access to at least one of his Ages, even if it was a place he had been to before, like Rime.

He would be more cautious this time. When Sirrus was ten, he and Achenar were already allowed to go several places without permission. They visited Pran and her people on Everdunes, and sometimes Sirrus would spend the night on Aspermere and Achenar on Channelwood. Father said that it was safe there and the people would look after them. But now he never let Yeesha go anywhere unsupervised.

Sirrus was certain it was because of what he and Achenar did. He didn't care.

He also supposed it was because Yeesha had managed to hold this strange cocoon of innocence around her at every moment. She touched everything she went by and looked at it like it was her first time seeing it. She spoke in the haughty tones of a ten year old who thought they knew everything, yet she cried when she found the body of a dead lizard.

Perhaps father wanted to preserve that innocence. Perhaps he thought it was why she couldn't leave without someone…there were others who could take advantage of her trusting nature.

Sirrus shook his head and dipped the pen again in the ink. He knew he thought too much, but it was a hard habit to break.

Now, what could form a natural path over the water?

Trees, perhaps. But the first thing he thought of were lattice roots, and Yeesha would have never seen those. Still, they weren't the only sort of trees…there were the kind that grew in marshes that…

No, she wouldn't put a marsh in her Age. Neither would he, really, unless it absolutely called for one.

Stones. No, he didn't want that, he wanted something that…wasn't as solid as that, as heavy, yet still formed paths over the water…

Branches would still be the logical choice. Perhaps part of the Age would be a very large lake, and the trees were all interconnected…they shared the same roots…and the roots formed the paths that one could walk across the lake with.

Perfect. He scribbled the note down on his pad, then went through the more painstaking work of thinking about every single D'ni word needed to describe that.

Age writing was laborious work, but he enjoyed it.

* * *

"Yeesha?"

"Yes, dad?"

"Can I come in?"

It was just after dinner and too early for bedtime, so Sirrus reasoned it was another Writing check. Father was almost obsessive when it came to Yeesha's learning. He would sometimes hover over Sirrus' shoulder and peer down at the open notepad, making slight noises in the back of his throat when Sirrus didn't get the letter quite right or if his wording was off. Sirrus was extremely annoyed at first and had taken to waiting until both his parents were asleep, then sneaking out in the desert to practice.

"'Course, dad," replied Sirrus.

Atrus opened the door and walked inside the small room. The walls were bare and the dress that had once been Yeesha's pride was tossed absently in the closet. There were still fish, and one of them bumped on the glass before swimming away. Sirrus was sitting on the bed, writing notes in the small notepad.

"Have you done any writing today?"

"Nope." He shook his head. "Wanna see my notes? It's what I'm going to put in my first Age."

Father chuckled. "We're getting a little ahead of ourselves," he replied. "There is still much to do before it comes to that. But you're getting closer every day. Let's see what you've got down." Father sat on the bed next to him, and Sirrus handed him the notebook. Father glanced through it, thumbing the pages absently, then smiling. "This is much better than the last," he said with approval. "The idea of all trees actually being one organism…that could work well and I like it, but you haven't taken the entire ecosystem into consideration."

"I have," Sirrus protested.

"Then tell me what sort of animals live in that lake."

Sirrus couldn't, and with that, received another long Age lesson from father. He took notes feverishly the whole time, detesting these lessons because he had enough of his father's lessons, but at the same time wanting them never to end because father never told him any of this before. There was the perfect way the trees would receive nourishment. There was just how thin he should make the ozone layer, how abundant the fish in the lake; there was the bacteria that facilitated digestion in birds that perched on the uppermost canopy of leaves.

He listened intensely and was slightly disappointed when father finished.

"Look at that," Father shook his head. "I've kept you up far past your bedtime. Don't tell your mom I did, you know how unhappy she is when you're sleepy and grouchy in the morning. She knows it's because of our lessons and keeps telling me not to be so enthusiastic…"

"It's okay," Sirrus replied cheerfully. "I like the lessons. They're better than sleep and I can't wait to really Write."

Father chuckled. "You used to be so hesitant."

"Well, I…just…saw more places and more Ages and wanted to write one, too."

"I'm glad. Really, I am. Now you go to bed and…here, give me those." Father held out his hands. "Or I know you're going to practice and not be sleeping."

Sirrus made a face, then handed the notebook to father. "Okay, fine," he grumbled.

"Don't worry, we'll start again tomorrow, if you'd like."

He brightened. "I'd love to! How much more do I have to learn before I can try and write my first Age?"

Father smiled. "Quite a bit, you know. Don't be so eager. You'll have your entire life ahead of you to write, desert bird. It is important to know everything before you start writing because…"

"I don't want to write something wrong and make the Age unstable," Sirrus replied instantly. "Don't worry, dad. My Ages won't ever be unstable."

"It's what we all hope for." He tucked the notebook away in his jacket and kissed Sirrus on the forehead, then shut off the light and left the room.

Sirrus scowled in the darkness, irritated at the removal of his notebook. He was thankful that his memory was excellent and he could remember roughly where he left off. He got out of bed and went to the bookshelf, running his hands along the spines of Yeesha's books and pressing them in the right order. The shelf slid down and Sirrus climbed the ladder, emerging underneath the room near the water. He didn't have a notebook here…father took his only one…but there was an easel and paint, and while it wasn't much, it would have to do for now. The careful D'ni letterings needed to be practiced more, for they weren't smooth enough, curved enough…it certainly wouldn't do for his first Age to be written in poor handwriting.

The water lapped on the shore as Sirrus drew careful script on the canvas. He'd have to get rid of this one after he was done so father didn't know he'd been up late practicing again. It was chillier tonight but humid, blessedly humid, and every once in awhile Sirrus took a break to dip his hands in the warm water and feel it drip down his arm. It was a sensation he never got tired of, and there would certainly be warm water in his Ages, just as much as there would be sun and open sky and days longer than the nights...and he was being distracted again, thinking of places and things he would write when he should just be practicing the writing.

If only canvases were as numerous as paper and notebooks. The white was nearly gone after only two hours, black scrawls covering the clean surface. The ink was still wet when Sirrus tossed the canvas into the water and watched it float downstream and away from Tomahna, the black running into the water and then disappearing entirely. He didn't know what he would say to father about the missing canvas but if he came up with something creative enough, father would believe it. He believed everything Yeesha said.

Tomorrow Sirrus would get his notebook back, and tomorrow he would steal one of father's and hide it in his room so he could practice whenever he wanted.

* * *

"This shows so much improvement," father said proudly, smiling at the words and laying a hand on Sirrus' shoulder. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you had been practicing all night!"

Sirrus refrained from yawning and also from agreeing that he had indeed been practicing all night…for the past three days…and the mysterious absence of coffee from father's pot was not due to father just being forgetful. But as usual, there were some things better off not being mentioned.

"Thanks, dad," Sirrus replied, peering over at the notebook. It wasn't bad, there was some improvement, but there would have been much more if he had been allowed his notebook. "When do you think I will be able to start the Age?"

"One step at a time." Father said, infinitely patient. He went to retrieve Sirrus' notebook from his desk and handed it back to him. "We can't rush something like this, and when you finally finish your Age, you'll feel more proud of it than anything else in the world and a thousand times as excited to see it."

Sirrus smiled. "Of course. And thanks!" He clutched the notebook to his chest. "Can I practice today out in the desert? I promise I won't get lost like last time." That had been an unusual experience. It had been a very long time since Sirrus had been lost, and for a moment the panic of unfamiliar territory and unable to sense where he was going had been almost exciting. It reminded him of the first time on Spire after he learned there was no linking book when he had lost something down the hole in the rock near where he slept. It was just a small ball of wire, but it rolled down away from the desk and wind blew it through the hole. It fell through the clouds and he watched it intensely, watched it keep falling until it vanished from sight, and he spent the rest of the day wondering if it burned up in the star or just kept falling into whatever infinity that Age had. He wondered if, avoiding the star, one would just fall forever until they died of starvation or thirst, or if they would reach a boundary in that world and just stop…maybe lie suspended there, forever, just trapped and unmoving.

"Yeesha? Are you alright?"

Sirrus startled from his reverie at the sound of father's voice. "I'm fine, dad, why?"

"You're looking very pale." Father lightly reached out and touched his forehead, and Sirrus prided himself in not flinching away. He had grown used to father's affection, the quick hugs, the proud smiles, the way he tousled Sirrus' hair before he went to bed. It was all Yeesha knew, and it was no wonder she grew up to be as trusting and loving as she did. "You're worrying yourself about this Age, Yeesha, and you shouldn't. You'll have all your life to Write, and I'll be proud of you no matter what you Write. I know you'll do a wonderful job on it. Here," Father put an arm around Sirrus' shoulder and led him out of the study. "Let's go have some tea, why don't we? Tea always helps me when I'm worried."

Sirrus followed father to the kitchen and sat down as father put the kettle on.

"What tea would you like?" he asked.

"The spicy one," replied Sirrus.

Father nodded and went to the cupboard to get the tea. Sirrus would eventually ask what type of tea it was so he could write it into a future Age, because it was…spicy, and he was sure there was orange in it, but he didn't remember many of the spices he used to eat on his food.

The tea was made and father sat down, handing Sirrus the mug. Sirrus took a deep breath of it, enjoying the way the steam curled out of the mug and you had to wait a few minutes because it was too hot to drink. There was never any tea on Spire, a terribly disappointing fact, and no plants that could be brewed to make something resembling tea, though he tried. There would be edible plants on his Age, too, delicious ones with fruit…and tea trees, if trees were where the leaves came from after all.

"Are they?"

"Are what?" father set down his mug.

"Does tea come from trees?"

Father didn't seem to find the question strange or surprising. "Not usually. Most often they come from bushes, like the ones I showed you in Sepata, remember?"

Sirrus shook his head.

"Oh," Father looked down at the tea, and for a moment looked a bit uncomfortable. "I…didn't take you to Sepata, did I,"

"What did it look like? Maybe I just forgot."

"It was very warm and rained most of the year, and we stayed up on the mountain with Caviril and his family…I remember you there, you would play with Caviril's daughter on the rocks, and once you slipped and fell and twisted your ankle."

Sirrus touched his ankle. He sprained it once on Spire, sliding down a rock tube, and had to limp around for the rest of the week until it improved. He didn't want to risk making a splint out of his clothing because he didn't know how long this clothing would last and wanted to make it last as long as possible. It was also too cold to risk tearing a piece of fabric to use for something like a sprained ankle which he could easily get over. He remembered the pain.

"Yes," Sirrus nodded. "I remember that now. It hurt. But I don't remember the tea bushes."

Father glanced away and down at the page, tapping his pen against the table. He often became nervous when Yeesha forgot. It reminded him, Sirrus knew, of everything that happened, and father did not like to remember that.

This time, though, father told him about the tea bushes.

* * *

Sirrus stayed inside for most of the winter. It was warmer during the winter in the desert, but he still hated the cold, and he had adapted to the spring and adapted further to the summer. There were allergies when the trees bloomed and he sneezed for almost a week straight. There was dry heat in the summer that chapped his lips and made his eyes water when he looked at the sun. The trees lost their leaves in the fall and he kept some of the leaves in his room, crispy and crackling when father walked over them by accident. Then winter came and it was chilly, and no snow fell, and the air was dry and Sirrus stayed inside and worked. He wrote and rewrote and drafted, and there were words, and words were better than cold and winter because they spoke of summer and interlaced trees over water.

Winter left and spring brought more leaves, and Sirrus cleared the dead ones from the past fall out of the room and brought in new ones, and though they dried up quickly he was always able to replace them with more new leaves, and bits of cacti, and colorful rock that broke off of the stones surrounding Tomahna. The fish died and Sirrus didn't need more fish, he wanted more interesting creatures instead…but Yeesha was not ready for the responsibility of caring for a bird or a dog, though Sirrus was, and he watched the birds less now but still more than Yeesha would. Or perhaps the same as Yeesha would. He didn't know the girl long enough to tell how often she would watch birds.

A second summer, and the first draft was finished, and he was restricted to the room for several days after father caught him sleeping out in the desert. He didn't want to tell father how long he had been doing that, and the boundaries of Tomahna were too small when not allowed to leave them, and Sirrus prowled around the grounds for hours and swam in the lukewarm waters until he was too tired, and it reminded him of Spire, only with mother's doting and father's words of encouragement and he wrote all night because he couldn't think of what else to do.

They visited Tay rarely now, and other Ages even less. Mother did not like this fact but father insisted on it, and their arguments were sometimes loud enough for Sirrus to hear. It was night, always, and their raised voices would carry to where Sirrus was curled up in bed, and he would twist the blanket edges around his fingers…the blankets were soft, and numerous, and he could take them on and off as he wished, or close the window to keep the wind out…and he would smile because they never fought before, at least not where he could hear them or where Yeesha could, because the child used to smile innocently and speak of how much her parents loved everything.

He wanted to see more Ages, he wanted to see Yeesha's worlds where she grew up and see if they bore any resemblance to Channelwood or Aspermere, and if any of the older women she spoke to were anything like Pran. He doubted it, because even in a thousand worlds there was only ever one Pran, only one Caracor (though he died, of course), only one Mirla (she died, too, though not the same way he did) and Yeesha would never have known these people.

There was a cousin called Anna. Sirrus never met this person and never wanted to. Why would anyone else use that name? Anna, too, that was the sort of name that could only be used once. If there were any women in Sirrus' Ages named Anna, he would have them killed, because they were meant to stay dead. This cousin Anna ought to be dead, too, and she would, when Sirrus finished learning.

He left the window open during the summer. The breezes dried the ink faster.

It would be warm in this Age. It would have to be, in order for the plants to survive, and for the birds to stay on the updrafts as they did.

* * *

Sirrus knew a code, though he didn't enter it, even when mother and father were away. It was for the fireplace in their room, and underneath it were Spire and Haven and he knew they were still locked in that gold cage, though father never mentioned it, not even when he asked. He knew the code for that fireplace and would write it down every so often to keep it in his memory. It was not time to go there yet. But someday it would, and perhaps…perhaps he would not go there at all, just look through the pages and read the descriptive book.

Yes, yes, he would do that. Then he would know how father made the rocks float, and then he would have learned everything.

* * *

"This is it, then," Father looked an odd combination of proud and worried when he received the final copy of the book, and it had been four years now, and Serenia was left untouched, though Tay was frequented, and Sirrus had never met cousin Anna but had seen other people and other worlds and drank tea in bushes he never knew existed.

"It is," Sirrus replied, touching the burnished gold cover of the book.

Father took a deep breath and picked it up, just looking at the cover. "You've worked hard for this, Yeesha," he said, his voice serious but hinting on proud. "So hard. I'm so…I'm so happy, after all that happened, that we were able to get through this and you learned to Write, and…" father was never good at expressing emotions, and even this was causing awkwardness, and father tripped over his speech like he never tripped over his writing. "I'm so proud of you, my desert bird. I will read this over, and if it is stable, then tomorrow we'll link." He set the book down in front of him and looked at it and then back at Sirrus, smiling, a small smile, where the corners of his mouth turned up and nothing else.

He put his arm around Sirrus and pulled him close. "I'm so proud of all you've done," father said softly. "And all you've become. Never forget that, no matter how old you are." Father kissed the top of Sirrus' head and then picked up the book, leaving, taking it back into his study to read.

Sirrus looked outside. It seemed, for a moment, too cold for it to be summer. He pulled the sleeves of his shirt down and saw, briefly, that his hands were shaking.

It didn't matter. His first Age was finished and he knew father would approve.

* * *

"It's…very stable," were father's first words to him upon handing back the book. He seemed surprised, no doubt remembering Yeesha's tendency towards flights of fancy, but admiring all at once.

"It is," Sirrus agreed. "My Ages are always stable."

"It is only your first."

"Well…yeah…but they're all going to be stable anyway." It was only untrained, unthinking Writers that caused instability in their Ages, people who didn't think things all the way through. He was not one of them and would never be.

Father praised the ingenuity of the trees and the usefulness of the birds. He spoke of the intricacy of the system (nature encourages mutual dependence, though Yeesha didn't know that) and was thrilled with the weather patterns and the ecosystem in the ocean, and Sirrus lost track of father's praises after awhile but they were there and it was his Age, after all, and it didn't matter that he was praising Yeesha because Sirrus knew the difference.

"Shall we go?" Father said finally, and Sirrus nodded and smiled and didn't say anything else. He made sure father had a linking book home to Tomahna, and then Sirrus took one himself…then two…putting them both in the brown shoulder bag Yeesha always carried. It seemed almost rude to say anything at this moment. Father opened the book and linked first, and then Sirrus checked that the books were there two more times before following.

The first thing he noticed was the smell. It was rough and earthy quarter tone clarinet and when he opened his eyes, the sun was at its zenith, and it was a warm orange glow instead of the usual bright yellow.

They were standing at the edge of a plain, and the ground was damper than Sirrus anticipated, and water pooled up around his feet when he stepped onto the yellowish grass. He checked the linking books once more, and reassured that they were there, looked back up at what was his first Age.

He was not particularly impressed. The sun was nice, yes, but the ground was too damp, and the trees did not have the colorful canopy of leaves he wanted…they were all of the same color, the leaves, a pale green that let the sunlight in too much and turned the grass yellow. He trees were all interlaced and part of the same organism, but their bark was too light and smooth to the touch. The air was warm and hazy, and a thin layer of mist hovered near the ground where the warm air met the cool dampness. The sky was pleasant, and he supposed that was the best part…the bright red-yellow was warm and appealing.

It was not his best work, but there would be other works, he supposed.

Father touched the bark of the nearest tree and then crouched down, feeling where the numerous roots met the yellow grass. "Impressive," Father said. Sirrus did not think so, but it was father's opinion that mattered in this case. Then he pressed his hand against the ground and the water welled up around it. "Did you intend this?"

"No," Sirrus replied instantly. "I did not want anything resembling a marsh, but…" He paused, pulling on the long braid in thought. "Didn't think it was going to be that wet, but I guess it's okay."

Father nodded. "I had a feeling it would, but didn't want to say anything." He kept walking, looking at each thing, pressing a leaf between his fingers and listening to the birds…Sirrus had forgotten he wrote in birds…and then he liked them, perhaps, better than anything else in this Age.

One of the birds landed near him, clasping thin, taloned claws onto an equally thin branch, and balancing on it, blinking at Sirrus with large, black eyes. The bird's colorful plumage was the opposite of what he saw as the dull coloring of the Age itself…bright purples adorned its long, feathered tail, and the rest of the bird was a peculiar rainbow of blues, ranging from pale blue near its beak to a darker blue by the purple tail. The bird opened its beak and trilled, and the bright sound shivered in the hazy air.

Sirrus reached towards the bird and it startled, taking off. Father turned around from his examinations of the plantlife to follow the path of the bird as it broke through the canopy of pale leaves. Neither of them spoke, just watched the bird, and watched as several other birds from other trees joined it. The orange light glinted off their shiny feathers, and Sirrus twisted the strap of the bag around in his fingertips.

This Age was beautiful, then, as a first. There would be other Ages and they would be more beautiful, but this was a start, and he approved.

Father complimented it even further, and they ate lunch under the thin shade of the trees. Sirrus saw the birds flying over the tops of the trees and knew then that he could write something beautiful, too.

"I would say your first Age is a success," father said, passing Sirrus a sandwich with thinly sliced meat and spicy cheese between the bread.

"I think so, too," Sirrus replied. He believed it, this time.

* * *

Night came to Tomahna and with it came celebration, and Sirrus did not know his family could celebrate that much and that joyously, and mother even set off a firework she picked up from Tay and Sirrus liked the fireworks the best of all. He set off one himself and mother laughed and father smiled, and when the fireworks dimmed, father embraced him and Sirrus noticed, perhaps for the first time, that father smelled faintly of coffee, and he couldn't remember if father always smelled like that, or the last time it mattered…

He wondered if this counted as a time where it did matter. Father's shirt was soft and it was peculiar, the way father touched the top of his head, quite softly and lightly, and he whispered something in D'ni that Sirrus…did not want to translate, not now.

Was father always like this?

No, father was different. Dad was like this.

And perhaps one day father would say his name as he did Yeesha's, and it would not matter that Yeesha was dead because Sirrus could do a thousand more things and would do a thousand more yet.


	6. Decision

Not for the first time, Yannin stared at the multicolored lock in front of her. She had fiddled with it nearly a thousand times in an attempt to get through, but each time failed. She asked the ancestors, but their response was vague, filled with colors and lights that Yannin didn't understand. The colors stood out in her mind and corresponded with the lock, here, but every time she put her hands to it, there were numerous clickings and twisting and then it failed.

_You shouldn't be here, Yannin,_

That's what Zanika would say if Zanika knew Yannin kept going. She could imagine the stern look on Zanika's face and the slight scolding tone the older sister would use.

_This incident was more than three years ago. Nearly four. Forget about it, like everyone else has._

There was something Caradell would say, and she would be nowhere near as nice about it as Zanika. Caradell made her dislike of Yannin apparent now, though that was in part because Caradell was very old and would die in a few years and did not keep anything secret.

_We're done. You've ruined it._

That's what Anya would say, and that hurt Yannin most of all. The brief friendship between the two was dead, and now Anya only spoke to Yannin out of politeness and to maintain the idea to the other sisters that nothing was wrong. But Anya was still angry, and still sad, and Yannin saw lines on her face that were never there before. She tried apologizing but Anya didn't want to hear it.

Click. Yannin tried again, but failed. The colors made no sense, and when mixed together made nothing but an ugly brown color, the same as all colors do when mixed together.

Click. She was too bored to do something else, maybe. The rest of the sisters had tasks but Yannin was still too young for important tasks and had to waste her time fiddling around with locks and things she should put out of her mind because they were long, long over.

Click. She prodded the small red button on the bottom of the lock, and the door swung open.

Yannin backed away quickly, almost tripping over her skirts and then really tripping over the ground and hitting the wall. A musty, old smell came out of the tunnel in front of her, and yellow lights barely glimmered in the dark.

_You've done enough, _was what Anya's rough voice would say.

_You should consult the ancestors before taking a single step forward, _Raeane would lecture.

Yannin tugged on a stray piece of hair and chewed her bottom lip. Anya would be right, she did ruin enough. Raeane would be right, too, because everyone always consulted the ancestors a thousand times before making any decision. And Zanika would tell Yannin to stop being impulsive and she would definitely be correct in that, especially in Yannin's case. She didn't know what was down that passage, anyway, and the lights were about to go out any second.

She covered her face with her sleeve and stepped into it, leaving the door open behind her.

It was quiet, and the shuffling of her soft-booted feet stirred up little clouds of dust. Dust was one of the reasons the lights were so dim, and her finger came away black when she swept it across the light. At the end of the passage there was a pair of…something made of glass that was probably older than anything here with dirt and dust caked on, and flippers for swimming next to it. Other than that, there was nothing in this short passage, just this and the ladder next to her.

She climbed the ladder and wrestled with the wheel on top, which squealed horribly before finally moving. Then she pushed it open and stepped through the doorway and into…

The first thing she did was step back out and cover her face even more. There were no green spores in the air and when she took a cautious sniff, it was safe, just dusty.

The last place she expected to end up was the old memory chamber. She walked in quietly, and felt momentarily nauseous when she remembered being here last and seeing Maria and Achenar sprawled out dead and bloody. She cautiously climbed the stairs and looked into the chamber…but it had been cleaned two years ago, the bodies buried and the blood gone. The other equipment still stood there…Sirrus' machine and the two hideous looking chairs…no one wanted to move them and no one knew what to do with them. No one went into the old chamber anymore anyway.

She walked back down the stairs to the first level and pressed her face against the glass that contained the central flower. The heart beat even slower now, with almost a minute between each beat. The area inside the glass was dull and grey-green and faintly hazy with the flower's pollen.

A thin _hiss _made Yannin jump away, but it didn't come from the flower. She turned around and saw an odd looking metal object, long and bronzeish, and an assortment of things attached to it. Had she seen this before? She didn't remember, but things had been so strange and terrifying the last time she was here, and the blood and dead bodies…murdered bodies…overshadowed anything else she would have recalled.

She walked over to it and peered down at it. It looked like a casket, only made of metal and having far too many attachments. There was a small window except it was all fogged up, and it was quite dry in here so she didn't see why. She brushed the fog off the window and a man's face stared back at her.

For the second time, Yannin shrieked and stepped back, and this time _did _trip over her dress and fall on her butt, scraping her hands as she tried to stop her fall. She froze, in case that person moved…but he didn't. Was he dead? That wasn't possible. The dead were put to rest on Serenia, not left in metal coffins with machines attached.

Yannin took a deep breath and stood up, walking cautiously back over to the coffin. The man couldn't be dead because the glass fogged up with breath again. She tapped the glass, but he didn't open his eyes.

She should tell someone she found this. Right away.

Yannin left the chamber and closed the door with the colored lock behind her. It was a relief to emerge into the chilly Serenian fall, especially with the colder wind off the water blowing salty in her face. The image of the man in the coffin burned itself behind her eyelids, still, and wouldn't go away until she stared into the sun and the afterglow blinded her.

"Yannin! What are you doing, staring at the sky, girl?"

She started at Zanika's voice. "I…I was just…it…was a nice…fall day," she stammered awkwardly. She had been a Protector years now and was still the most awkward of all of them. She averted her eyes from Zanika, but her elder sister put an arm around her shoulder and gave it a comforting squeeze.

"It is," Zanika agreed. "But a very sad one, too."

Yannin was so busy thinking about the almost-dead man that she didn't know what Zanika was talking about. The confusion must have been all-too-apparent on her face, because Zanika said lightly, but still chidingly,

"Caradell is very sick. I was just on my way to see her, and I would hope you would join me. She only has a few days left, and she knows it, and all the ancestors know it, too." Zanika's voice was heavy. Caradell was the eldest and Zanika the second, and Yannin knew it made Zanika feel old to think of Caradell gone from the physical world.

And here Yannin was, forgetting all about her sisters! Caradell may not like her but in Dream they were all the same.

"Of course I will come," Yannin said quickly. She could forget about the almost-dead man for now, right? If that man had been there since…since everything happened two years ago…there was no reason he couldn't stay there longer. Her sisters were more important, at least they should be, no matter what. "I'm sorry I was distracted. I was just thinking about things."

Zanika nodded and started walking, and Yannin had to hurry to follow the older woman's large strides. They reached a small house down the path, and when the door opened, the smell of illness hung inside. Caradell was on the bed, her face sunken and yellow and her hands clutching the blanket. The other sisters were already with her, and Raeane's face paint was streaked from her tears. Zanika rushed to the bedside and Yannin hung back, pulling harder on her hair. She had been ignoring her sisters, hadn't she. She had. It was time to stop that.

She walked over and sat next to the bed, crossing her legs and resting her hands in her lap. Caradell turned over and looked at her and nodded in approval.

"All my sisters are here," she whispered, reaching towards Raeane to help her sit up. "Would not want anything else."

"It's gotten worse," Raeane said to Zanika. "Only in the last hour. It is a terrible virus. The ancestors must want her desperately to make her die this quickly." Her tears started afresh and she choked back a heavy sob. "It is only right, of course. Death is not to be feared."

Caradell nodded in agreement. Then the door creaked open again and a young girl came in wearing a simple yellow dress, panting, her face bright red from exertion.

"Tila," Caradell nodded again. "Come, stand with Raeane,"

Tila had been studying with Raeane for some time now, and sometimes with Yannin, sometimes with Moiri. Yannin was not a good teacher but Tila liked her anyway, though that could just be because Tila liked everyone. She was oddly agreeable for all her studying with Caradell.

"Raeane, Tila is yours," Caradell said. "Teach her well, for she is the summer wind that is consistent and warming and ruffles through your hair near the ocean. Tila, have patience with Raeane, for she is the spring wind, cold, warm, impatient for forward movement."

Tila nodded and wrapped her arms around herself. She was only fifteen. Raeane rubbed her face and smeared the paint over her clean sleeve.

Yannin was silent, and she was even quieter when Caradell stopped talking and held the hands of her sister and her future sister, and barely breathed at all when Caradell stopped.

There were tears on all the sisters' faces, then, and even Yannin forgot the face of the man in the presence of Caradell's, cold and sunken and gone.

They saw her spirit safely to rest with the ancestors that night, all of them, and two mornings later, Tila joined the sisterhood. The girl was too young, Yannin thought, scrawny and small in face of the older ones, and the robes barely fit over her thin frame. Her nose twitched as they carefully painted a white line down her face, and she clasped her hands reverently behind her back and when she made her vows, she sound far older than fifteen, and certainly older than Yannin did when she made her vows.

Tila was now the youngest to ever join the sisters. She clutched Raeane's hand and knelt on the cool floor and was called now a Child of Wind.

* * *

Winter was warm this year, Anya mused, sitting outside near the bell. She spent most of her time outside and wished for snow, though it never got cold enough this year for it. Occasionally rain pattered down from the sky, but it was rare, for this winter was dry as well as warm.

Tila wanted Anya to Dream with her today. Anya avoided taking others into Dream because at least half the time she saw Yeesha, and she didn't want Tila to be exposed to that. There were real ancestors and then there were wanderers, living beings seeking out answers, and…there were a few…what Anya had taken to calling _ghosts _because there was no other word for them except the strange English word she heard Catherine use once when she visited years ago. Anya had met unhappy people in Dream, and Yeesha was one of the unhappiest.

Still, now, the girl cried. She knew Anya and clung to Anya's being every time she entered, as if that would bring her back to a body and true consciousness and help her find home again. Anya saw Tomahna a thousand times in her mind, smelled the air at night and felt the coolness of Yeesha's bedsheets underneath her cheek. The girl cried out for these, and cried more for her parents, far away and unknowing and never returning to Serenia again.

Anya did not want to tell the ghost that her parents would never return, but Yeesha found out anyway. Even in this curious state between alive and dead, Yeesha was still too observant. Yeesha knew, now, and knew about Yannin, and didn't hate the other Protector as Anya expected.

She should have known. Yeesha was incapable of hatred. In her semiconscious she knew her brothers were responsible, and when Sirrus' name flitted between their spirit-forms, there was intense sadness, disappointment, and yearning from Yeesha. There was never hatred…anger, normal anger, but sadness, mostly, that her brother was not a kind person and a compassionate one.

She missed Achenar intensely, very often, these days.

"Anya," Tila said insistently, tugging in Anya's sleeve. "You promised."

She did not always act like a Protector but she was fifteen and Anya supposed she would have acted the same if she had taken her vows at fifteen. But unlike the other sisters, Tila could see the small better…she could find anyone in Dream, pick out individual ancestors from a thousand, and her guide was as attuned as she was. It was strange for a child of wind to be that specific, but it was welcome.

"I know," Anya assured her. "I know I did. But you don't want to go into Dream with me, do you? Perhaps you'd be better off asking Moiri." She certainly didn't want Tila finding Yeesha, because Tila could not keep a secret and she would tell the others and it would disturb them. Less, perhaps, since Caradell's passing, but still. It was not worth making trouble when now nothing could come of it.

"Moiri is busy. She went to Antilak for the entire day and won't be home until tomorrow. And we have not Dreamt together very much at all."

Tila was right about that, and it was unfortunate, since they were sisters and it should not matter who was older and younger.

"Very well," Anya agreed reluctantly. "We will Dream together. But the spirits have been cautious around me lately, so it might not be as exciting as when you Dream with Raeane."

"I know," Tila replied.

"As long as you are aware." Anya stood up and dusted off her skirt and the two entered the Hall of Spirits. Tila sat down first and closed her eyes, and the Dreaming mask settled easily around her face. Anya did so next, and it was reluctant, but it came still easily regardless.

_-Anya. I have missed you. Your new sister, she is pleasing to feel.- Anya's spirit guide said when she felt herself aware of her surroundings. _

_-She is. You have made a good choice in selecting her.-_

_-She did most of it herself. So it always was.- His voice was more somber than it used to be, and it made Anya sad. He heard Yeesha, too, and it was difficult sometimes…many times, really…for a spirit guide to comprehend the frustrations of flesh-bound beings, but Yeesha's deep, wild emotions were magnified a thousand times in Dream and he could certainly understand those._

_Tila was there, then, next to Anya. The two guides greeted each other, a peculiar harmony of wind and water that made the two Protectors echo the best they could._

_-Who do you speak to, when you are here?- Tila asked. _

_-I will introduce you to Sori,- Anya decided then. It was safe, and Sori always took interest in new sisters even if they weren't tied to water. She would be happy to see Anya was Dreaming with someone, even though it wasn't a young sister of her own. –She was my mentor before you were born. She and I were very close, our water was from the same stream, Caradell would say.- She felt sad thinking of Caradell, but then felt Caradell's distant sympathetic vibration and it was better._

_Sori did like Tila and was pleased, and they were happy, the three of them and the two spirit guides. Sori did not mention Yeesha at all, though she knew all that was happening and was perhaps the best support Anya had. _

_Still, it was inevitable, because Yeesha always knew when Anya was in Dream. After they bid farewell to Sori and prepared to exit Dream, Yeesha drifted by and brushed against Anya, seeking the usual comfort and listening that Anya had to offer._

_-Who is that?- asked Tila. She was curious and leaned forward and brushed against the white half-spirit before Anya could tell her not to._

_There was a painful burst of homesickness, and Anya could hear Atrus' voice in her mind, soothing and quiet in the night. Tomahna was lovely during the summer, the air humid and the birds twittering more than they did before. It was home and I want it, it was home and I want to go back there. Why can't I go back, Anya? I was always able to go back before. _

_I'm sorry, Yeesha. We can't do anything._

_Maybe you can help me? Yeesha implored Tila._

_-I don't know you…- Tila intoned, and her spirit guide agreed. But Yeesha was insistent and for a moment Anya was not sure if she was in Dream or Tomahna, because she could feel the wind in her face and hear the chirp of crickets, and the next moment a woman's voice asked her why she was out so late…the woman had a curious accent, and she brushed the hair out of Anya's face and told her she should be in bed…but she didn't want to be in bed, so the woman laughed and said that perhaps tonight they would go star watching instead, as long as they kept it secret and didn't tell dad._

_-We have to go, Tila,-_

_-I don't want to go,- Tila whispered. –I want to stay here with dad.-_

_-They're just memories. They're not yours and there's nothing we can do.-_

_Help me, Tila, Yeesha pleaded. Please. I want to go home._

_-We have to go,- Anya repeated, and her spirit guide echoed the command. –Come on, Tila. You've met Sori. That is what I wanted to take you here for. You can see Caradell, too if you wish. But we have to leave.-_

_-I'll help you,- Tila said.-What do you need me to do?-_

_Help me go back home, Yeesha insisted. Please. I want to see my family again. I don't know how long it's been. I miss them._

_-How do we get you back?- Tila asked, and she moved away from Anya and closer to the ghost. –I can help you do it.-_

_-No, you can't,- Anya reached for Tila, feeling the beginnings of panic race across her corporeal form. –You can't help her. I've tried more times than you can imagine. The best thing to do is leave. Come back with me.- She couldn't touch Tila. She reached for the girl, but Tila's spirit guide got in the way and sent a warning shock through Anya and her guide._

_Tila drifted closer and pressed her side against the ghost. She wanted to help, and that was final._

_Tila's guide recognized that something was wrong and tried to pry Tila away from Yeesha. But stubbornness had always been one of Tila's features and she clung to the ghost despite her guide's insistence. She would help. No one should be lost in a place like Dream, a friendly place where one could see their ancestors and find wisdom. This girl should find it, too. _

_-Tila!-_

_She nestled near the spirit, so close now that the edge of her yellow form turned white. Her guide was there, trying harder to pull away, but Tila was determined…she would help…she couldn't stand the despair…she could help!_

_-Tila! You have to come with us!-_

_Tila was an unnecessary name. It wasn't the name of someone who could help. What name could help? She asked the ghost._

_Mother, the ghost replied._

_Then I will be mother._

_Half of Tila's spirit was white, and Yeesha's despair felt slightly lessened, and the compelling feeling that Yeesha always directed to Anya was evaporating. Tila's guide let go and hovered near Anya's, trying to pull her away._

_-The other Protectors! We have to find them!-_

_Three quarters now. Yeesha was not alone anymore, and she was not happy, she would never be happy, but she was happier now that she had someone, a friend, a companion, to travel with…_

_Tila's spirit went completely white. Her guide shifted away and wasn't her guide anymore, then, just a wind spirit, aimless in Dream, waiting for a new Protector, going to swirl in small dusty areas near trees._

_-We have to go,- Anya's guide ordered. –There's nothing more we can do.-_

_-What happened?- Anya whispered._

_-Let's go first. Far from here. Then home.-_

_Anya trusted her guide, and he took her where there were no ancestors and no wanderers, one of those rare places in Dream where there was silence and peace. She stayed huddled together with him, and it smelled of rain._

_-That shouldn't have happened,- he said. It was the first time she heard fear in her guide's voice. –We've been here and talked with her before. That…I do not…I do not understand,- he admitted, and it was rare for spirit guides not to understand even the strangest workings of Dream._

_-Tila went with her. We never did.- Anya replied. She touched Yeesha countless times before and felt the brush of her memories…she listened to them and felt the same things that the girl had felt. But she never went to help, because she knew there was nothing to be done. She had known this from the start, and knew it even more after Yannin told Atrus. If there was something they could do, it hadn't been revealed to them yet._

_-Yes,- he agreed. –She went with her. Yeesha is lonely, she is…was used to family? Searching for a family again…- _

_And somehow she found one. She was getting stronger after so long in Dream, but still clung to that desperation and loneliness…and here someone offered to stay._

_-I have to get back. I have to see if she's still alive!-_

_-Tila is gone, Anya,- her guide said. But Anya wouldn't believe it, things like this didn't happen in Dream, Dream was a place of reflection and peace and joy…_

She jerked out of Dream and the mask vanished into vapor around her face. She tore off the gloves and threw them to the floor and ran over to Tila, who had collapsed where she was sitting, the mask gone. She knelt down and pressed her fingers against Tila's throat, and the pulse was beating still, weakly and erratically.

"Come on, Tila, don't do this," she shook the girl and touched her amulet and Tila's amulet but the necklace didn't glow. "You have to come back. You're young and we need you, my sister…"

She heard the footsteps and then the shouts as the others entered.

"What's wrong? What's happened?" Raeane demanded. She pushed Anya aside and picked up Tila, touching her forehead and then her neck and then her wrists. "What did you _do?" _Raeane stood up and grabbed Anya's collar. "What's wrong with her? I saw her guide hovering in the dusty glade and he looked at me, quite sadly, and then disappeared. I know Tila's guide when I see him because I've seen him enough times. She was Dreaming with you and now she's…I don't know! But you did something, didn't you? Always meddling, ever since…"

"She's dead," Moiri interrupted.

Raeane let go of Anya. "She can't be dead. She was just Dreaming."

"She's dead, Raeane. There's no pulse. Her eyelids aren't even moving."

Raeane sat down next to Tila and looked disbelievingly at the young girl's body. "How? No one dies in Dream. And look, there's not a mark on her."

Without the spirit, the body has no reason to live, Anya thought, looking down at her hands in her lap. She felt she ought to cry for the dead sister but no tears came, and that made it all the worse.

"She was too young, she was so new, new to us, she was my student, my sister…" Raeane held onto Tila's body and kept repeating that, over and over, even through her sobs. Moiri sat close to her and Zanika on the bench, and they were mourning.

They were mourning over death. That was wrong. Protectors never mourned death, only saw it as greater understanding, a second existence. Now they cried when a sister passed and Raeane held her body and wished she was alive again.

Anya didn't want to tell them what she saw. She couldn't. Disembodied spirits never had a place in Dream, and…perhaps this was one of the reasons why, one of the effects it could cause. It made Dream…it made it dangerous.

Dream was always dangerous. But that was only to people who didn't have spirit guides and didn't understand the fluidity of time there, and the voices of the past and the present and all those you knew.

It was never dangerous to the Protectors.

She looked to the side and saw the bright and dark reds of fire. Anya peered up at Yannin's face, and was surprised at the blankness she saw on her features.

"What?" Anya demanded. Yannin was the last person she wanted to see now.

"You know what happened," Yannin stated.

Anya stood up and moved her braid out of her face. She didn't want to say anything, this was the wrong time and place. But she nodded.

"Come with me, then,"

"Now? Why?"

"There's something I have to show you."

"I can't go see anything right now. I have to stay here with the others. We all do."

"It'll only take a moment. And it's…really important."

Yannin's grabbed her hand and tugged insistently. It was the most contact they had in years.

Anya glanced back at the others. Raeane was grief-stricken, and Moiri was pressed so closely to her twin it was hard to see where one left off and the other began. Zanika had her gloves on and looked like she was about to start Dreaming, but she wasn't. Perhaps it would be best if Anya wasn't there.

"Very well. Show me."

They left the Hall and traveled down the stony pathways.

"What happened?" asked Yannin when they were a safe distance away.

Anya could not, then, find it in her heart to still be angry at Yannin. Perhaps this would have happened anyway, even if Atrus and Sirrus kept coming back. Perhaps it would have even happened sooner, with Yeesha's understanding that her family was here all the time and couldn't reach out to her and save her.

So she told Yannin what happened. By the time she finished, they were by the old memory chamber and the harvester. Yannin worked the harvester with ease, like she had done it hundreds of times before. Then she led Anya inside and they went down and into a cavern that she had never seen before.

"This is where Maria came, isn't it," Anya said, her voice echoing oddly off the stone walls. "This was how they got in and put up their…that machine. The brothers. They did it, all the time, and all the while right where we could see them…"

"Not us," Yannin replied as they approached a circle with many colored circles inside. "Those that came before us. The brothers did it right where they could see. They missed it, and we missed it, too." Yannin's hand worked at the colored circles quickly, and Anya couldn't follow the pattern at all. "We let this get away. We let Sirrus do terrible things and no one tried to stop it, except for us, but then we failed. We can't fail again. We have to set Serenia right."

Anya looked at Yannin for a long time as she finished the colors, and then the lock clicked in place and Yannin pushed the door open.

She was a girl, once.

"It's this way. Here, you have to climb up the stairs."

And now she was showing Anya what to do, where to go, what she uncovered all by herself.

"Here," They emerged in the old memory chamber, and a quick look at the heart showed at least some activity. But Yannin wasn't concerned with that and strode over to the corner where a long, metal coffin was attached to countless machines. Yannin brushed her hand on the glass and pointed.

Anya looked inside, and a man's face stared back at her.

She inhaled sharply and clutched her amulet. The face was gaunt and thin with pasty, almost yellowish skin. Black stubble grew along his chin and upper lip, and his hair was long, growing down over his forehead and into his eyes. But he was breathing.

"What is that?"Anya whispered.

"That's Sirrus," Yannin whispered back. "Haven't you Dreamed his face before?"

Anya nodded slowly.

"He's in this because he's coming back for it," Yannin continued. "He doesn't want to be Yeesha forever."

"When did you learn this?"

"After I found it." She touched the coffin with her fingertips. "I spent many days in Dream. No one understood it and what I found, but…they did, eventually, and we pieced it together. He's coming back for it. He's going to come back here eventually…the machines keep it alive…"

A surprising amount of fury bubbled up in Anya's chest, and she clenched her hands tight around the amulet. "Then rip out the machines," she hissed. "Rip them all out and toss it in the water, let it rust away, let this body…spiritless body…let that rot, too. Let him die forever where even in Dream no one can see him."

"We can't!" Yannin countered quickly. "Anya, don't, please," She grabbed Anya's hand, now resting against the cords hooking the coffin up to various machines. "If that body dies, Yeesha is never going to find her way home." Anya didn't move. "And then maybe more sisters will die."

That made her release the cord. She wouldn't let that happen again.

"You saw what Yeesha did," Anya said softly. "How she took Tila with her."

"She wants her home again."

"She does."

"That's not going to happen as long…as…" Yannin's hand trailed over the window. "We have to…show…someone this…"

Yannin was still obsessed with that concept. It failed before, and Anya was quite angry then that she wanted to do this again. Who would they show? It wouldn't do anything, and with Tila dead, the sisters would be even less likely to listen to them.

"We need to switch them back," Anya said. "We need…to bring Yeesha back to herself. And leave Sirrus…let him die. He was meant to die a long time ago."

Yannin nodded. "But I don't know how."

But there were people who knew Serenia perhaps better than the Protectors did, someone who could look at…at the roots of the world and see how they spread, and that way, perhaps, know how to undo this.

"You were right. Oh, spirits, Yannin, you were right. You just did it wrong."

"Did what wrong?"

"Atrus. You're right. We need Atrus."

"Why?"

"He knows this world. This…this was done some way that we don't know. We can't correct it because…we've never done anything so…sacrilegious and disrespectful as tamper with spirits, switch their bodies, trap them before death…and Sirrus knows, but he will never tell us, of course. But Atrus knows Serenia. Catherine wrote it, and Atrus knows writing, and…he can know things about this world that we don't. If we show him this, he'll know you're telling the truth." Anya began pacing, rhythmically tapping her left hand against her leg in thought. "And once he knows that, he'll understand the horror of the situation and want to help us fix it, and with his knowledge, we can do that. Then Serenia will be safe and so will the family, as it was meant to years ago!" Anya finished, whirling around to face Yannin, a wild look in her eyes. Yannin looked afraid, for a moment…a long moment, and she twisted her sleeves around nervously in her fingers.

"Yes," she said finally, sitting on the coffin. "You're right. We're both right. But how do we do that?"

A plan, albeit a thin and uncertain one, was starting to form in Anya's mind.

"We have to take Atrus here ourselves or else he'll never come back. He hasn't come in four years, and he never will. So that's our duty, then."

Yannin stopped playing with her sleeve and met Anya's eyes. "So we have to go to Tomahna?"

Anya nodded. "And bring him back here."

Yannin reached out and Anya took her hands. They were both warm and dry, and Yannin's pulse was fast in her wrist, as was Anya's.

Anya knew this was right, in her heart, in her spirit. She was the water that broke the dam apart and let it flow downstream and far away, and Yannin was the fire that burned through the woods and cleansed it of rot and debris.

Tomahna was the forest, and perhaps so was Serenia, and the strange book that went between them would break the dam forever.


	7. Releeshahn

"A toast!" Guildmaster Khovin announced, raising his glass high. The other guildmembers followed the suit, and so did father, and Sirrus, last. "To our own Yeesha, daughter of Atrus, child of the D'ni, a bright, wonderful girl whose writing might very well equal that of her father's, if such a thing is possible." Scattered guild members' laughter followed.

"She will be," Father interrupted. "It is the hope of every parent that their children will be better, smarter, happier than they are. I would like to imagine I'm not any different."

Master Khovin smiled and waved his other hand in Father's direction. "And of course to Atrus, without whom none of this would be possible. It is a day of celebration, and who are we not to join in? We have all seen Yeesha's first Age." He gestured in Sirrus' direction. "And it shows so much potential for one so young, so talented. We are grateful to have such a person here in Releeshahn today, and Yeesha…" Khovin smiled at Sirrus. "Welcome home."

Father put an arm around Sirrus' shoulders and Khovin raised the glass again. The entire hall full of guildsmen did as well, those nearest clinking glasses with Sirrus and father. Sirrus brought the glass up to his lips and took a small sip.

He was fourteen and had never tasted wine before.

No. He was forty-eight…and would be fifty-two…and had tasted wine a thousand times before. And this wine was sweeter, wasn't it? Than the wine on Mechanical? Or as sweet as Aspermere?

He had never seen father as proud as this moment. This was his world, his beautiful Releeshahn, the home of the D'ni. And the man up there, Master Khovin…he was the first full-blooded D'ni Sirrus had ever seen. He was tall and thin, aging, with long bony hands wrapped around the glass. His eyes were pale and his skin…weren't they supposed to have pale skin, too, from a thousand years underground?

No, because Releeshahn lived in the sun, and its people did, too.

Sirrus enjoyed the sun. He enjoyed Releeshahn's sun more than Tomahna's because it was brighter and warmer and in the morning, he saw the steam rise off the ground. He'd never get tired of it. He could live here until he died and never tire of it.

Sirrus wished father took him here before. He talked about Releeshahn often and announced whenever he was leaving, and promised to take Yeesha someday…and when Sirrus finished writing, it was finally that time, and yesterday they linked in. Sirrus slept in a room adjacent to father's, in a big bed with layers of thin, soft sheets and a fluffed-up green pillow just as soft as the sheets. There were patterns of leaves on the pillow, and different plant patterns on each sheet. The walls were painted a warm orange color with pale, swirling patterns painted on. The Guild of Writers symbol was etched onto the wood of the door…and the sun through the window, which looked out onto the lush Releeshahn greenery…

Father's writing was beautiful, then, if it could create something like this. Sirrus touched everything in the room so he could remember it and write it into his own Ages someday.

It would never be as beautiful as Releeshahn. There was only one Age like this, and Sirrus could never find it again, never write anything like it.

Not _yet. _At least not yet. He could do anything father could and could do it a thousand times better, just given the time. He was still young, yet, fourteen was hardly old enough to write Ages like these.

No, he was fifty-three (fifty-two), but hadn't learned to write until recently, and it would take time to develop greater skills even with his natural abilities.

There was a feast tonight and Sirrus drank little of the wine, finding it distasteful to Yeesha's underdeveloped pallet and personally he preferred what was on Mechanical. If that Age still existed (it had to have!), he would go back there someday and retrieve all he left on those Ages.

Father did not know that Sirrus saw his Myst linking book. He kept it locked away in his room, but father and mother were not there all the time, and in Sirrus' explorations he found the Myst book. It was old, dirty, forgotten, and when he opened it, the panel on the front still showed home. It looked the same from the panel. He wanted to go there and see what home looked like now after so long, and wanted to see if Maria had done anything to it, and most of all, he wanted to go back to Channelwood and sleep in his old room among the creaking trees and chattering of primates.

There would be time for that, later.

When the feast was over, most of the guild members headed back to their rooms to sleep. The moon was high and the leaves cast in a strange, silvery light, and Sirrus did not want to go to sleep yet, not when he could see the silver wash over his arm.

"Beautiful, yes?" said a voice behind him. Sirrus startled, finding his moment interrupted by Master Khovin. The guildmaster's thin lips twitched upwards in a smile when Sirrus jerked away from the railing.

"Sorry. It's just really pretty."

"It is, I know. It is hard to believe it is our home sometimes. I've looked out here far too often and keep thinking it will be taken from us one day, that it will fall as D'ni did…but it won't, because we have built our world here on solidarity, friendship, and trust. We have learned from our mistakes and will make a better world because of that."

"Dad told me the stories," Sirrus replied. "And he said he had a tapestry about it once but it burned down."

Master Khovin chuckled. "It did. He had several, and they were crafted by Mirdal…she couldn't come tonight, but she is a wonderful weaver. It was a shame that the tapestries burned, but she offered to make more. She offered to make you one, too, but I told her not until you said what you wanted."

Sirrus turned back to the railing and ran his hands over it. He had held Yeesha's memory necklace in father's old study and saw the memories of the full tapestries, and they were extremely detailed and precise.

"I would like that," Sirrus replied. "I don't know what I'd get on it though. I don't want to say something and then decide something else and then she'll have made all that for nothing."

"Understandable. Atrus said you were a wise child, very aware, and you are."

"Thank you." He thought that he might like music in it, and then thought that he might like to hear some…real music, not the cheerful and sometimes off-key voices of the people here. "Perhaps something with music in it."

"What made you think of that?" Khovin asked.

"The singing earlier. It was very pretty, but I used to hear different sorts of music at home and in the other places I went." For the first time in years, and just for a brief moment, Sirrus wished to go to Spire…just for a second, of course…just enough time to tune the instrument and hear something played on it, and then he would go home, of course, because no one would want to stay in Spire for longer than a day, a week at most. But the instrument he built was glorious and when played right would shake the caverns with beautiful music, and while father could write…this would put the singing of Releeshahn to shame. He hadn't touched it in years, and certainly not with these hands. The cool air brushed the loose strands of his hair away from his face, and he wanted to.

But his hands were so small, they wouldn't be able to handle the controls. They were soft and ink-stained and the rocks would hurt them. He could no longer play that instrument, and the cool, high tone of a crystal discharge would jolt his small nervous system and he wasn't sure it could take the pain.

It was worth it, though, giving up that music for writing.

"It must have been lovely music to make you think that hard," Master Khovin interrupted. Sirrus twisted the end of his braid around his finger and looked out at the landscape for a minute before nodding.

"It was beautiful and always in tune." He replied.

"You do not find beauty in dissonance?"

"No."

"Ah. I would have guessed that by your Age."

"Why is that?" Sirrus demanded, stepping back from the railing and looking at Khovin. "What's wrong with my Age? Did I not do something right?" He pulled harder on the braid, and couldn't think of anything, because he made sure to smooth out all the imbalances and even father said the Age was perfectly stable, and that was unusual for a writer of such a young age, and showcased what promised to be his incredible talent. No beauty in dissonance? Should he have done that? He didn't even know what that meant, but obviously he had missed something and left something critical out of his Age, and though father was a great writer, he did not have the title of master as Khovin did.

"No, of course not!" Khovin shook his head. "Your writing was precise and well thought out, and we are all impressed by what you are able to do. You're just young, that is all. But there is so much promise, and I am honored to be able to see how your writing develops."

Sirrus bit his lip. Not good enough. Clearly, it was not good enough. Beginner or not, it didn't matter. He spent enough time working on it where he should have worked out everything.

"What does that mean?" Sirrus insisted.

"It doesn't mean anything, Yeesha. You are quite the worrier. All it means is that there is beauty everywhere, and while you do not understand it now, you are the sort who will."

"Oh." Sirrus picked at a loose nail absently. "I guess so."

"You will. It's in your blood, of course. Your mother is brilliant and creative, and your father one of the greatest men I've met. And your great-grandmother, I wish you could have met her. She would have loved you and wanted to see you write. I didn't meet her, but Atrus tells such stories…you remind me of her, you know."

Sirrus stopped picking and looked up, his eyebrows pinching together. "I do? Why is that? I am nothing like…" What did Yeesha call her? Nothing, Yeesha hardly talked about her. "Great-grandmother Anna."

"You are creative and free-spirited. I've read her writing and it reminds me very much of yours. Depending on how long you are here, I will take you to the library near here and you can look through one of her descriptive books. I think you'll find a lot to learn from that."

"Where is the library?" Sirrus demanded, peering out across the landscape, not able to make out anything through the trees.

"It is too far from here to walk. But I promise I will take you soon, if your father allows it. Is that a good arrangement?" Khovin tilted his head inquiringly.

"It is," Sirrus agreed. "I would like that."

"Good. I look forward to it as well." Khovin smiled and bowed slightly, and Sirrus did the same. "It is late, and I am very tired. It has been a long day and we've celebrated very much. I am going to bed, and perhaps you should as well."

"I will do that soon, guildmaster."

Khovin went inside and left the door to the balcony slightly open for Sirrus and then left him.

Sirrus waited for a few minutes, tapping impatiently against the railing. He was not going to wait until tomorrow, because he did not want to be in the library supervised. Knowing the people of Releeshahn, if they had any of gramma's Ages (did Yeesha call her that? Or was it Grandmother, or just Anna?), they would be kept away somewhere guarded or locked up, and if he was allowed to see them at all, it would be with Khovin breathing down his neck. Khovin was a good man and an honest guildmaster, but he idolized father and his family, and while he would let Sirrus read gramma's books, he would do all but turn the pages for him to keep them preserved.

They kept gramma's books here. Here! Father never mentioned that, though it could be because gramma was never important to Yeesha except in a distant sense. Yeesha had a picture of her, an old picture curling on the edges. Gramma was beautiful and young in that photo, and her hands weren't curled with arthritis or coughing and covering her mouth with a handkerchief.

_("She was the nicest person ever. That's what my necklace told me, how much she cared about everyone."_

"_She would be proud of you, Yeesha."_

That is what the necklace always said when Sirrus touched the photograph. He kept it anyway, because it was the only photograph father kept of gramma)

He could find the library. It shouldn't be too hard. He wanted to see them and touch them, flip through the pages and read her handwriting, her careful D'ni and her wonderful words. She had to be a thousand times better of a writer than father, and he could learn from her, even though she had died years before. It wouldn't matter, she would still live there, and he could remember her.

Khovin was wrong, he was nothing like her. He would never be and would never try, and it would be an insult to her to compare anyone to her. He would make sure that Khovin knew this and stopped speaking of her when he never met her.

Sirrus went inside the large hall and closed the door behind him. There were still people milling around despite the late hour, and a few waved, the others nodded, but most just walked by, absorbed in their own thoughts. Sirrus asked one of them where a map was, and he was pointed down the nearby hall.

The map of Releeshahn was still unfinished, but the main part of the city was complete. Sirrus found the library and memorized the path there as best he could, and then twisted his long braid in a knot before setting out.

It was extremely dark out and he didn't know how long this firemarble was going to last. The road was half paved, bits of jungle sticking through. Sirrus was small enough where it didn't matter and he was able to get through the underbrush with little problems. The road twisted through trees and Sirrus was also glad he was short and could hold the marble closer to the ground and not trip over anything. There was hardly anyone on the road now, either, and he found that slightly eerie here, with the jungle on either side and the call of birds and odd chirping of insects.

It couldn't be that far to the library. They built everything close together and were too young a world to expand. There was only this road, and even though he tripped over uneven parts and unpaved sections where the grass poked through, it was quite a clear road.

He did not get lost. He was certain Yeesha didn't, either.

*

Guildmaster Khovin could not sleep. This wasn't unusual, he had trouble sleeping for the past few months. He would close his eyes and all his thoughts would be waiting for him, and they demanded he write them down _now, _not later, because later it could be lost. The notebook next to his bed was covered in half-formed sentence and words shooting diagonally across the page from being written without a light. He knew if he turned the light on he would never get back to sleep.

Tonight, though, he had to turn the light on.

He got out of bed and threw on a robe, picking up the pen and twirling it through his fingers. He had no intention of writing anything, but it was a nervous habit, and he had busy fingers. The clock showed how early in the morning it was, and he knew all the other guildsmen would be sleeping. It was too early to eat, and the sun was not yet up so there was no sense in taking a walk.

Khovin walked down into the main hall and into the largest hall and leaned against the doorframe. There was only one window in this room and high up, so no matter what time of day it was, it always looked the same. It was designed to be inspiring by reminding them of the D'ni caverns of old where sunlight never reached. Khovin was told the only reason for the window was the painters on the outside needed a place to sit and eat their lunch.

He enjoyed the fact that this room was the same no matter the time of day. It made him feel better when he couldn't sleep.

Khovin walked through the room and down the hall, brushing his thin hand over the stone. He was getting old and knew it, disliked it, and for the most part, ignored it. But for a moment he wondered if this was another one of the many signs he was getting old…waking early in the morning before everyone else, and going to bed just after the sun set. When he was younger he would make remarks at the older guildsmen for doing that, and, in the normal greater irony of things, was forced to sit in that position himself.

At least the guildsmen here had the respect not to say it as loud as he once did.

Khovin wandered until he felt at least a bit more tired, and by that time the sun was up, so there was little point in going back to sleep. He made his way to the kitchens where tea was already being brewed.

"Good morning, guildmaster," said Shakor, the head cook, and the only one to be awake at this hour. "Did you sleep well?" it was a formality, of course, since Shakor knew Khovin for years and knew of his chronic insomnia. Shakor assumed it was the curse of Writers, since many young guildsmen would also do the same.

"Not this time," Khovin replied, accepting the tea that Shakor handed to him.

"What was on your mind?"

"Getting old, I suppose."

"What made you think of that?" Shakor was older than Khovin, and raised a grey, thinning eyebrow that would disappear into his skin any day now.

"Atrus and his girl, Yeesha. The celebration last night, I suppose. She is fourteen and Writing, and Atrus is older now, and Catherine has not been to Releeshahn in years…and Yeesha wanted to know about Ti'ana, and…think of it, think of how long Ti'ana has been dead."

Shakor huffed to himself and poured another cup of tea. "I haven't thought that far back in a long time."

"Nor I, but I suppose we all must, some days. Join me, my old friend. We do not sit together enough, though we are both up early."

Shakor smiled and nodded in agreement, first plucking a pastry from the cooling pan and then sitting beside Khovin. The two of them ate and drank in silence while the sun rose, then nodded at each other when the people started to awaken and the noise in the rooms rising. Shakor thanked Khovin for the company, and then went to prepare breakfast. Khovin, feeling more relaxed now, decided to walk back to his rooms and maybe rest and Write.

He was not expecting to see Atrus waiting for him, his eyebrows pinched tight together in worry.

"Good morning, Atrus," Khovin said, bowing respectfully. "Meaning no disrespect, of course, but what are you doing in my bedroom?"

Atrus sat up immediately. "Yeesha is missing," he said without precedence. "I went to wake her up this morning and she wasn't there." Atrus wrung his hands together nervously. "You talked to her last night. Did she seem alright to you? She wasn't too overwhelmed by the celebration?"

Khovin blinked in bewilderment. "No, she seemed fine when I last spoke to her. That was last night, after you'd gone to sleep, and most of the celebration was finished…she was on the balcony watching Releeshahn move, as I do, and we spoke for awhile."

"And she was fine? She didn't say anything odd or unusual?"

Khovin pulled up a chair for himself and another for Atrus, and indicated the two sit down. "And what do you mean by that?"

"I suppose I…" Atrus looked towards the window where the morning sun shone through a crack in the closed drapes. "She acts strange sometimes, and I worry, that is all, and I worry even more when I find her missing in a place she doesn't know very well. She disappears into the desert all the time in Tomahna but she is aware of it and knows where to go. But here…" Atrus sighed. "She wanders, that is all. She never used to wander. She finds peculiar places…the top of a railing, the middle of a canyon…and will just sit there and stare for hours, and then run off and start writing or swimming and not speak to Catherine or myself. She wrote that Age almost nonstop, erasing and rewriting and focusing on it where she would forget to eat. She would steal things around Tomahna…a leaf, a bird feather…and just hoard them on her desk and not do anything with it. I would find her sometimes in the room touching them…just that, just touching them." Atrus sighed heavily and put his head in his hands. "She never used to do that, Master Khovin. And I am worried."

Khovin never married or had children, but he had heard other guildsmen speak of such things. Children were a mystery to him, something he could watch over and chide when they made a mistake and reward them when they focused. But he did not know what to do when they acted strangely.

"Perhaps it was…it could have been…well, with the last few years…" Good at Writing words, no good speaking them. He always fumbled and stuttered his way through conversation since he was young. "All that happened, such tragedy in your family…"

Atrus nodded, very slowly. "That is what Catherine said, too." He told Khovin. "She taught Yeesha how to cook and Yeesha made delicious dinners for us, but Catherine said she felt wrong…that Yeesha did…the way she held Catherine's hand and spoke. But that was a long time ago, and it has been at least a year since she has done any of that…but I worry so much about her, especially now that she is Writing. What if something happens? What if something is wrong with her that I never…noticed before?"

Khovin was not entirely sure why Atrus was telling him this, but was as supportive as he knew how to be. "She is a brilliant child, and I am sure she will find her way. She is young and going through a time when we are all confused…I remember being fourteen and it was tumultuous and difficult, and I was between arrogance and timidity and never knew which. I am sure she will find her way. She is a pathmaker, of course."

"Yes, of course, she is, always was." Atrus raised his head and nodded, pushing his glasses back up on his nose. "Though the Protectors said…"

"Yes?"

"Nothing." Atrus shook her head. "Nothing that bears repeating. They were always strange people, and I am glad Yeesha goes to them no longer."

"And I am glad at least that gives you peace, Atrus. Perhaps we should walk? That always helps me when my mind is troubled."

Atrus thought about it a moment, then agreed. The two of them left Khovin's room and went outside, walking down the path in the early sunlight. It wasn't humid yet, though the haze near the ground showed promise of a thick, hot day. They walked in silence and every once in awhile Atrus would stop and touch a leaf, turn it over, look at it for a moment, and then keep walking.

"Releeshahn won't fall apart anytime soon, you know," Khovin said the fourth time he did it, startling Atrus from his examination.

Atrus chuckled. "Catherine tells me the same thing all the time."

"She's right, of course. Women often are, I've been told, and it is best to agree with them."

Atrus nodded absently, dropping the leaf to the ground. "What did you and Yeesha talk about?" he asked then, starting to walk again.

"Just Writing, I suppose," Khovin replied. "The appreciation of dissonance and not always constructing the ideal Age, because leaving a little room for something to happen, I believe, is one of the finest marks of Age writing. To Write something and then link there and see a species of birds poking their beaks into a nectar flower, the birds I didn't Write in…I have always found that to be a wonder."

"I thought the same when I found inhabitants on Stoneship. _I didn't Write that. _Yet here it is."

"What Writing is about, I think." Khovin plucked a leaf from the same plant Atrus was examining. "I have not seen plants like that in any Age Written by us. How did you come about this?" He could see Atrus was still worried, but people worried never think clearly, and Khovin was sure Yeesha knew what she was doing and would come back from wherever she was.

But she didn't, not after an hour, or two, and when they returned, she was still nowhere to be found. The day passed and Atrus searched the entire building, and by the late afternoon, the building and the nearby areas were being searched. Yeesha was nowhere to be found, and by the end of the day, Atrus was very close to taking a search party into the jungle and finding her that way.

"We haven't tried the other places nearby," Khovin insisted. "She…" Khovin's voice trailed off when he remembered more of their conversation from the night before. "The library. She has to be in the library. We spoke of it, and she expressed interest in Ti'ana's books, and…"

"The library, then?" Atrus paused for a moment, thinking, and then rushed out the door, heading to the library as fast as he could. It was all Khovin could do to keep up with him, for Atrus was still younger and faster than the guildmaster. Khovin finally caught up, and managed to tell Atrus how far it was to the library and how it would be much easier to wait for a tram.

Atrus slowed down and waited for Khovin to catch up, and then they both walked to the tram stop and sat down on an ornately carved bench.

"I'm sorry," Khovin said after a time. "That this is causing you such worry."

"It is not your fault." Atrus shook his head. "It isn't anyone's fault." He folded his hands and stared down at them.

The tram took its time, and they boarded in a still awkward silence. Atrus stared out the window and muttered something to himself that Khovin couldn't pick up. They arrived at the library and Atrus ran inside before Khovin even had a chance to get off the tram.

"Is he going to be alright?" asked the tram operator.

"I hope so. He is worried about Yeesha, and, I believe, worried about something else other than the girl."

"Good luck to both of you, then. Have a good day, guildmaster."

"And you too."

When Khovin caught up with Atrus again, he was scouring the front of the library, pulling books aside in search of secret passages (they had build none in the library, despite Atrus' requests. The guildmember in charge had said they wanted people to feel wholly open and at home in the library, rather than secretly fearing that something bad would happen or that they were missing something). Khovin decided it would be best if he searched himself, so he went down the stairs in the back, and through several back rooms, and then he finally found Yeesha curled up in a corner, with several books at her feet and her arms wrapped around a particularly large one.

"Yeesha?" he said gently. "Yeesha, you should wake up."

The girl's eyes fluttered and she tightened her arms around the book. He noticed then the necklace she always wore glowing slightly at the base of her neck.

"Yeesha, your father has been looking all day for you, and he's terribly worried."

"Father?" Yeesha opened her eyes, blinking blearily at Khovin. "Father is here?" the necklace made a soft chime, and instinctively, Yeesha's hand went to brush it. Her body trembled slightly, and her fingers closed on the amulet. She didn't say anything for a moment, then curled tighter around the book. "Don't take it away," she said. "I'm keeping this book. I am. It's not yours."

Surprised by the forceful tone of her speech, Khovin took a step back and held up his hands. "I will not touch it right now if that is what you want."

"Don't touch them ever." Yeesha continued. She glared at him from under long lashes, and it was an oddly possessive glare. "They're not yours. They're…Ti'ana's, and she's not from Releeshahn and never even saw it! Her books shouldn't be in _your _library." When Yeesha moved, the necklace touched another part of the book and glowed again. Biting her lip, Yeesha touched the amulet. It was only a moment later that Khovin noticed the girl was crying, silently, and buried her head in her arm.

There was a noise from the steps and Khovin turned and nodded to Atrus, who heard noises and came down to investigate.

"Yeesha!" Atrus exclaimed. "Yeesha, what are you doing down here? You've been gone all day and I was worried you'd gotten lost in the jungle, and…"

At the sound of Atrus' voice, Yeesha lifted her head from her arm and tossed the book aside in one swift motion. She rose stiffly to her feet, uncurling herself from the position she had been sleeping in all night.

"You let them take the books _here?" _Yeesha said, curling her hands into fists. "You let them take her books away and hide them here in a dusty room that no one goes to at all? Why did you let that happen?" Her voice rose with each word until she was screaming shrilly at Atrus, holding one of Ti'ana's other books accusingly in front of him. "Why didn't you keep them? Did you not want them anymore? What if mom wanted them? Or someone else? Why'd you just _leave them?_" She dropped the book at Atrus' feet and sat down, holding her hands almost reverently over the covers. She was crying again and not looking at either one.

"Leave them?" Atrus looked bewildered until he picked up a book, opened it, and saw Ti'ana's careful writing. "Oh, Yeesha." He knelt beside her and put an arm around her shoulder. "I'm sorry, I really am."

"I found the memories," Yeesha said. "I found all of them. My necklace glowed all the time."

"I'm so sorry." Atrus pulled Yeesha close to him, and the girl buried her head in his shoulder. "I didn't…I didn't think."

"No," Yeesha agreed, her voice muffled from the cloth of his shirt.

"I had the books with me for all those years, and…you were only a baby when we moved to Tomahna, and…it was painful for both your mother and I to have the books around all the time, and remind us of everything that was and could never be again. The people of Releeshahn are respectful and honorable, and they held…your great-grandmother…to just as high a regard as we had. It is the best place for her, among Releeshahn, among the people who once belonged to D'ni, Ti'ana's people. She would have loved to see this place and stay here, and she would be happy that the D'ni had a place at last."

Yeesha didn't say anything for a long time. When she spoke, it was soft and almost incoherent. "She would,"

"So we keep her books here to honor both Releeshahn and Anna herself, for she would be happy to have them among her people, who are safe and protected and will never die."

"Never die…"

"Yes."

Yeesha looked up and saw the room illuminated by firemarbles, and read the titles of the other books, all collected works of great Writers. "She was a great Writer," she said after a time. "She was the best of them. She should be here with the rest." Yeesha leaned her cheek on Atrus' shoulder. "You're right,"

"I am glad you think so."

"Would you like to keep one?" Khovin interrupted. The two of them looked up, having completely forgotten he was there. He had gathered the books up and put them in a neat pile on the table, and held out the one that Yeesha had been wrapped around before. "It would be right for you to have it."

Yeesha looked questioningly at Atrus, who nodded. Khovin handed over the book, and Yeesha took it, touching the cover reverently. The necklace glowed again, and she clasped her other hand around that and waited for the memory to pass.

Atrus stood up and left one hand on Yeesha's shoulder. "Maybe it is time we return to Tomahna for a bit."

"I would say that is a good idea. It has been a busy few days, I can imagine you would want to be back home again."

Atrus nodded. "Thank you, Guildmaster, for your patience and your hospitality."

"You are always welcome here."

Yeesha bowed slightly to Khovin. "Thank you, guildmaster," she echoed, her voice soft and somewhat hoarse. "I promise you I will be back again. I will become a great Writer, too, like everyone else in my family."

Khovin smiled and bowed back to her. "I have no doubt that you will."

He waited for Atrus and Yeesha to leave, and then went to put all the books back in their proper places.


	8. Confrontation

The two Protectors met in the square after the ninth bell. It was not quite winter yet, but the air was chilly enough where Yannin could see her breath as she walked quickly down the paths to the square. She was sure Anya was there already, waiting impatiently for her, looking around or pulling on the ends of her sleeves, which she always did when she was nervous. Yannin twisted her hair around her finger, but it was a bad habit and her great-great-grandmother berated her for it, saying that it wasn't proper behavior for a noble Protector, to be trotting around playing with her hair like a youth.

Yannin said farewell to all her relatives the day before. Anya insisted she did, worrying that they would both never Dream again and maybe never see Serenia, either.

Linking couldn't be that dangerous since Atrus and Yeesha did all the time. Anya insisted it was because they were meant to do that, but Yannin believed that since Yeesha…the true Yeesha, of course…could be a Protector and travel through the books, then they could, too.

"You're late," Anya said to Yannin when she arrived, even though she wasn't.

"Sorry," Yannin replied. It had become almost a customary greeting between the two for awhile now. Yannin pulled her shawl tighter over her shoulders, and wrapped her scarf around her neck another time. She didn't like the cold and didn't mind leaving late autumn, since Tomahna, from what Yeesha told them once, was warm most of the year.

"It's not that cold," Anya said, picking a loose thread on the scarf. "Who made this?"

"Mizara, down the street from my house," Yannin answered, pulling the scarf away from Anya. "And it's freezing! We already have the winter shades pulled down at my house."

"We don't do that until fall is over."

"Oh." Yannin glanced over her shoulder, and in the clearing nearby she saw a flicker of light. Her guide promised he would see her off, and looked forward to hearing all about Tomahna when she returned. She raised her hand in farewell, and for a moment the flame grew brighter before dimming away.

"Maybe it will be warmer there." Anya suggested with a small shrug. Atrus and Yeesha always dressed in light clothing.

"Maybe," Yannin agreed.

There was a long pause, a strange silence, and Anya breathed in as deep as she could. "The stars will be different there, and the plants, and the way everything smells," Anya said, half to herself and half to Yannin.

"I know," Yannin replied. "But we knew that already. The stars are different on the other side of the world here, and no one is worried about it. We should go, come on." This time it was Yannin's turn to be impatient. She wanted to go because they said they were going to, and they should. There was no sense waiting around. Zanika would also be extremely unhappy if she found out that Yannin was doing something this dangerous without consulting the spirits in Dream and the rest of the sisters first.

She could tell Anya was still reluctant to go. When they reached the cavern, Anya trailed her hand over the cold rock, and briefly swirled the pool of water with her toe.

She sighed, deeply, closing her eyes and breathing in the chilly air.

"Anya…"

"Do you sometimes think of not going?" Anya asked, tilting her head up towards the dripping of the water of the stalactites. Several droplets fell on her face, one on her forehead and rolled down, leaving a smeared trail of paint behind.

"Not really," Yannin answered honestly. She wandered over to the book and opened it, looking at the strange picture sitting there. "It's the only chance to save Yeesha." And Yannin had almost gone there once before. She heard the steady hum of her necklace but put it out of her mind, because now was not the time to look at memories, however useful they may be.

Anya followed her and stood next to Yannin, peering down at the book. "She is the spark that flies off the branch, eager to become a roaring blaze," she said to herself.

"What?"

"That is what Caradell always said about you."

Yannin tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "That's…a nice thing to say,"

"It is." Anya reached for the book, and then jerked her hand away…then closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and placed her hand on the picture.

There was an odd _whoosh, _and Anya shimmered in the air before vanishing, leaving Yannin alone in the cave.

They were doing something. After all this time, they were finally _doing something. _Now was not the time to be afraid, now was not the time for hesitation, now was the time to run blazing in like they were supposed to and fix everything. Yannin put her hand on the panel.

She felt like she was going to be sick, that the entire world was suddenly condensed to a pinpoint in her vision, and then with a corresponding _whoosh _she was no longer in Serenia.

Anya was leaning against a wall, her hands clutching a table in front of her. Her face was completely white and she looked like she was about to vomit. Yannin reeled from the shock, knocking the book off its shelf. She put her hands out and searched for something to grab on to, and just before she fell, Anya put out an arm to stop her. For a moment they stood there, panting and disoriented, before the room stopped swimming and they could see clearly.

"Don't touch anything," Anya ordered. She lifted her hands up off the table and clutched convulsively at her glowing necklace. Yannin felt her own necklace heat up, but she refused to touch it. This place was full of memories that weren't her own.

"Then how are we going to get anywhere?" Yannin demanded, looking all around the great room, feeling the hairs on the back of her neck stand up in response to the electric buzzing. "We don't know our way around this place." She was recovering from the linking disorientation faster than Anya, and was already heading towards the only exit she could see. She walked through the door and then stopped, pressing herself against the rock face. The heat hit her in a blast, making her want to shed the outer layer of her robes. The sun glared in her face and off the…the…some sort of machine in front of her.

She heard Anya come behind her and have a similar reaction. "Spirits," Anya said. "It is so hot here. And they live here all the time!"

Yannin removed her shawl and dropped it on the floor. For a moment it was all the two of them could do, look around at the hot, dry landscape and the buildings of Tomahna all around.

"It is beautiful," Anya said after a time.

"Where do we go from here?" Yannin asked. She was used to Anya having all the answers. "We can't jump down there, we'd die." Yannin looked down and saw a river running into the canyon and shuddered. She never had the opportunity to be afraid of heights until now.

Anya nodded. "They have some other way to get around, I'm sure. Let's go back inside and look for it."

Relieved that Anya took the lead, Yannin followed her inside and began pulling open drawers and nosing around until she came to the Serenia book. It was strangest of all, seeing her home from a page on a book. And this is what these people did all the _time. _She wondered if they ever felt it strange.

"Here, I think I found something." Anya called. Yannin walked over and saw an open…some sort of lift. "Maybe this gets us out of here." Anya got inside, as did Yannin, and Anya pulled one of the levers. The lift went down too quickly, and Yannin had to shut her eyes and not look.

The next hour was spent pressing strange buttons and pulling unknown levers, and watching as parts of Tomahna detached from each other and then reattached. Anya looked around at the various dwellings attached to the cliff side, and told Yannin to check the one to the right, and Anya would take the one to the left. Yannin wasn't too sure of them splitting up, but she knew what to do nonetheless. Find Atrus, then find Yeesha. Together, they would be able to prove to Atrus what they knew. They would show him all the memories they'd stored in the necklaces, and the loose ones around Tomahna, and he'd have no choice but to believe them.

Anya watched Yannin walk away, and then she followed the bridge over to the smaller room. She found herself staring into a girl's room, and then saw Yeesha sitting on her bed, writing in a journal, then looking at her aquarium, then turning back to write again.

Yeesha looked up, then tossed the book aside and very nearly threw herself into Anya's arms. "Oh _Anya!_" she exclaimed excitedly. "I haven't seen you in _forever! _There's so much I have to show you! I wrote my first Age and it was _so brilliant _and then dad and I went to Releeshahn and there was this huge party! Anya, do you want to see my first Age? I wanted to show it to you because I know you'd like it, but dad won't let me back in Serenia anymore! I've got things in there that will remind you of it!" She wrapped her arms around Anya's waist, then looked up at her, her wide eyes shining in genuine admiration. "How did you manage to get all the way here?"

Anya unhooked Yeesha's arms and stepped back in surprise. "I used the book, of course," she said.

"That's wonderful! See, I thought you would, but I didn't tell dad because then he'd get rid of it forever, and what if I wanted to visit you when I was older and he couldn't tell me what to do?" Yeesha shrugged. "But does it matter? You're here now and I have to show you my drawings," Yeesha grabbed a hold of Anya's hand and tugged her into the room, over to the bed, and then held up the journal to show a carefully drawn fish on the page.

"Yeesha…"

"Is it bad? Oh, it is, I'm sorry!" she grabbed a pen and scribbled the top fin off. "Maybe you can help me? Oh, and tell me what's been happening on Serenia I miss it so much!"

These weren't Sirrus' speech patterns, Anya thought. They were too childlike, too much like…well, like Yeesha's. For a moment she wondered if she and Yannin had been mistaken about the whole thing. The memories could be wrong, couldn't they?

No, because Yeesha's spirit was still in Dream and had captured Tila, and maybe more.

"No, Sirrus," Anya said firmly. She took Yeesha's wrist and removed the pen from her hand. "I don't want to help you now, or any other time. Yannin and I have come here to end this."

A look of absolute bewilderment passed over Yeesha's face. It lasted for a long time, and the girl looked down at her notebook, her eyebrows snapping together in confusion.

"Sirrus…" Yeesha said, tugging at the end of her braid. "My brother…who…"

"No," Anya's voice was firm. "No, the girl known as Yeesha is far away, trapped in Dream and searching for a way out, and taking the spirits of Serenians with her. You, Sirrus, trapped her there, harming the people of Serenia and the spirits in Dream, and…" Anya was surprised to find how angry she was then, because she was not the sort to feel anger easily. She stood up from the bed and tried to calm herself, but she remembered the feel of losing Tila and the terror that more Serenians might meet that fate. "You took her away! You'll take them all away, and destroy this family as you destroyed Yeesha! We are not just Protectors of Serenia but Protectors of Dream as well, and your actions have spilled over into the spirit world, and it is our duty to protect that world from harm as well!"

Yeesha stood up, her mouth open slightly, her eyes glazed over. Then she clenched her hands tightly and looked with blazing fury at Anya.

"You came _here,_" she snarled. "Father'd left Serenia far behind and you still came here!"

"Yes," Anya met her eyes.

"Why would you _do _that?" Yeesha threw her pen down and reached for the journal, pulling it out of Anya's hand and tossing it to the ground.

"I can give you many reasons," Anya replied levelly. "But instead will give you two. The first, that Yeesha is too troubled a spirit and in return harming the travelers in Dream, and that must stop before we lose more Sisters and more Serenians to such madness. And the second is that you are not Yeesha, and if the ancestors cannot bring such truth to Atrus, then it is our job to."

Yeesha's face contorted, mixed rage and confusion and fear. She stumbled towards Anya, reaching frantically in her boot. Anya grabbed Yeesha's arm, knowing where Yannin was, going to take this Yeesha to Atrus and give him no choice but to hear their story. Instead, Yeesha pulled a knife from her boot and drove it upwards through her ribcage. Anya shouted and shoved Yeesha away, trying and failing to grab the knife before falling to the ground, one arm still reaching towards the girl. Yeesha had gone dead pale, but cleaned the knife off on her skirt and stepped away from the dead Protector.

"I am very sorry, Anya," Sirrus said quietly. "It is almost a shame, as you had more intelligence than the rest of your sisters." It would take him some time to move the body and drop it away in the river, and he was reluctant to get on it right away. He felt faintly ill at the sight of the body and nauseated at the thought of touching it. Instead he reached around her neck and pulled off her necklace, putting it in his pocket and intending to destroy it later.

"Anya!"

Sirrus started at the scream, and looked up to see the other Protector standing in the doorway. Yannin looked down at the body and back up at Sirrus, and Sirrus was surprised to see her face switch from terror to rage in just one moment.

"You!" Yannin shouted. "How _dare _you? As if you hadn't done enough damage, filthy, lying, treacherous..." she stumbled over the hem of her dress towards him, her eyes blazing and her necklace humming in agreement. Sirrus bared his teeth at her and it didn't faze her in the least, nor did the bloody knife in Sirrus' hand. The only thing that surprised both of them was Atrus, who had followed Yannin to Sirrus' room.

"Don't get anywhere near," Yannin said, taking a step towards Sirrus, and placing herself between Sirrus and Atrus. "Stay back, Atrus, please. There's already been one death today, and one is far too many."

"No, stand aside, and let me see my daughter!"

"She's not your _daughter, _Atrus!"

"Then _who else would she be?_"

"I've already told you! We both have!"

Sirrus took this opportunity to bring the knife around and stab Yannin's back, then twist the knife as hard as he could. She screamed and for a moment, the knife handle grew searingly hot and fire lanced up Sirrus' arm and made him scream with her. He stumbled backwards and clutched his arm in surprise, and looked down at his palm to see the skin blistering around an even deeper black mark. His mind registered the pain a moment later and tears sprang to his eyes, and he bit back further cries of pain. Yannin fell forwards and Atrus caught her, cradling the dying Protector in his arms.

"You see," Yannin said, her voice already far off, the echoes of the ancestors whispering in the corners of her mouth. "We are right," Then she followed her guide home again, and left Atrus holding a dead girl, and Sirrus fallen on the floor near the bookshelf, clutching his arm and almost whimpering in pain.

The tears ran down Sirrus' face freely and his necklace glowed and hummed brighter than ever before. It made the pain in his hand worse, and it throbbed with every motion he made, even the smallest one to reach around to the bookshelf and grab the right linking book. This was all going wrong. He wasn't finished with his work yet. His writing was still heavy handed and awkward, and the worlds he linked to not at all what formed in his mind. He didn't know the people of Releeshahn as well as he wanted, and father was still…still _here, _still looking in bewilderment at the two dead women. Maker curse every one of those damnable Protectors! They ruined _everything, _and would keep ruining it, and Sirrus would take so much longer to write properly and do _anything _the way he wished.

He did not want to change his plans now, but it had to be done. He dug the corner of the book into his palm, the pain there distracting him from the pain in his other hand. He looked up at Atrus and let father see his tears.

"Daddy?" he said, his voice small and frail, and he was angry to discover the quiver in his voice was entirely his own. "Daddy, what's happening here?"

"I don't know, my desert bird," Atrus said, stepping over the bodies and almost falling down. His face was white and his eyes slightly unfocused. "I don't know. Come here, my child, we'll listen to nothing of…of what those…women…what they say…" He put his hand on Sirrus' shoulder, and Sirrus touched the linking panel the next moment.

It was cold on Spire, still, and would be cold there until the gravity holding the rocks together fell apart and they all crashed into the star. Sirrus' heart raced the moment he smelled the cold, stale air, and felt the rocks at his back. As soon as father materialized, Sirrus grabbed the linking book back to Tomahna and clutched it tight to his chest.

"You should have listened to them, father!" Sirrus shouted, his voice echoing off the rocks. Yeesha's voice. His voice. It was nearly the same thing now. "You should have believed them right from the beginning, when they learned it was not Yeesha's hand that rested in theirs, not Yeesha's mind who sat in the kitchen late at night and studied the D'ni writing!" He walked over the wrecked cage and out onto the ledge, feeling the tips of his ears freeze in the wind. "Your daughter is dead, father. I killed her years ago. The Protectors were right." He opened the book, showing Atrus the linking page, feeling all at the same time shocked and proud and victorious. "Do you see this, father? Look at it. Look at the page, now, because it is the last you will ever see of it. Close your eyes and remember what Tomahna looked like when you were happy, remember the warm wind on your face and the grits of sand between your fingers, and keep that in your memory long after the fire is out and the only thing you hear is the howl of the wind. This is your prison, father!" He smiled, and laughed, but the laugh was lost in the air. "Perhaps if you had never written it at all, you would never have to look at it now. But maybe you will make something of it, like I have, yes? Either way, I am finished with Spire now. I give it back to you. Goodbye, father."

Sirrus took a running leap and threw himself off the edge of the rock, plummeting down through the clouds and into his nightmare, one that haunted him for nearly thirteen years. Falling and watching the rock zoom past, knowing that he would die, knowing it was only a matter of time before the clouds parted and there, there…there they did, and he saw the green star fill his entire field of vision, and his breath came fast and his head spun from lack of oxygen. He fell, and fell, and kept falling, but this time he put his hand on the page and felt the thrill of linking.

When he arrived back on Tomahna, the last thing in his mind before he fell asleep that night was the book, falling endlessly through the stars until it met green fire and death.

*

Sirrus woke the next morning in mother and father's room, curled up under the blankets with his shoes still on his feet. He was slow to wake, terribly tired, and his left hand still throbbed where Yannin had burned it. He untangled himself from the blankets and stared at the hand, wondering if the burn was going to be there forever. How did that woman burn him outside of Serenia? Was there something in that world he missed, some strange ability to harness their elements outside of their own world?

He'd learn soon. He had to get back today. There was no reason to stay as Yeesha any longer.

There was still the problem of mother. He went to find the book to Tay, and tossed it in the river. He spent the rest of the day hunting out the other two linking books, then found the descriptive book and spent a good long time staring at it. He eventually decided to throw it in the river, too, and watched as the current swept it out to wherever Tomahna's river led. Out to sea, no doubt. I am sorry, mother.

He went back to Atrus' study and found the Serenia book. He linked into the cave and walked through the puddles and past the bubble fountain, and glared back at the wind spirit that rose up in a small tornado in the clearing. After that, the spirits left him alone.

It had been so many years that Sirrus almost forgot the layout of this place. He found his way to the courtyard and peered into the temple, and saw one of the sisters sitting down with the mask of her face. He didn't know who she was, but he was sure she knew about the dead Protectors back on Tomahna. He felt the hairs on the back of his neck prickle, and when he turned around there was a water spirit watching him, and it didn't move when he shooed it away. When he looked back inside, the Protector hadn't moved, but Sirrus had the most disquieting sensation of being watched.

He skittered out of the courtyard and down the path to the old memory chamber. If all went well (and who knew, after all this time), the stone would still be in its place, and he could make the transfer quick and hopefully painless.

There was no one around when Sirrus made his way down through the lake and past his colored lock and into the chamber. It was cool and dry here, except for the weakly beating heart in the center of the chamber. It was beating enough for his uses.

He walked over to the sarcophagus where his body rested, sallow and thin, breath still fogging up the glass. Everything was still on and working, and this was still a living body. This would still work.

But he needed the stone. Of course the Protectors had moved it back to its original location, and it would be difficult with Yeesha's weak arms to drag it here. But he'd have to make due. He hunted around the chamber until he found some rope, and tossed it on his shoulder and went back to find the stone. When he made it there he wrapped the ropes around it and heaved it to the floor. The necklace hummed and he absently brushed it.

"_Stupid," _Achenar's voice growled. _"Dragging things around for my little brother, and what do I get out of it? Nothing, like always." _

"Shut up, Achenar," Sirrus snapped as he dragged the stone along the floor. It scraped horribly, and Yeesha's body was still too frail to be pulling things that heavy. He had to pray the Maker was on his side and would clear the way of people so he could bring the stone back to the chamber.

"_It's…the plan! Sirrus' plan! He's got Yeesha!"_

"She'll be permanently dead soon," Sirrus replied. "I wouldn't worry about that anymore, dear brother."

"_After this, I'm never going along with any of Sirrus' stupid schemes again."_

It took Sirrus more than an hour to drag the stone all the way back to the chamber, and the Maker was kind to him and let him get there without anyone hearing him. It was exhausting, though, and he felt like he'd never be able to use his arms again. In a way that was correct, though, since he'd leave Yeesha's body here when he was done and it would rot away with the rest of this world.

He fit the stone in place, and then went back up to the machines. He climbed the stairs to the top and flicked the buttons in place, waiting for a moment while the dusty machine powered itself up again.

"_Look, we have to set everybody's memories back right again,"_ Achenar's voice said as Sirrus flipped the last switch. _"The amber lever. Turn the amber lever to begin the process."_

"Actually," Sirrus replied. "I believe the silver lever is the correct choice."

Sirrus pulled the lever, and the timer was set. Two minutes to be in the chair, then the transfer would begin. The time in Dream shouldn't take more than ten minutes.

Sirrus sat down in the old chair. The light flickered, the bulb dusty after years of disuse. Too many years. Or maybe not enough, depending on how much he wanted to learn. Yes, that was correct. Not enough. He would have spent longer, learned more, slept well in the warm Tomahna nights had the Protectors not come and ruined everything. Let them die. Let them rot. And when this was done, let all of Serenia rot. He'd destroy their ancestor stone, and Dream would fall, and the entire Age would deteriorate into chaos and madness, and there would be no one left to remember his name and what he had done here. It was deserving.

Four, three, two one…

The lights went on, and there was darkness. Absolute, cold, unnatural.

No more than ten minutes. But even that seemed to long, in this deep chilling cold, and the nagging whispers of other's memories at the back of his mind, eating forward, and he was suddenly afraid that perhaps Yeesha would be here waiting, her thin cry of alarm alerting all the other citizens of Dream that he was not meant to be here. Without a guide, it was said, wanderers in Dream would falter and die.

Then Dream was gone.

Sirrus opened his eyes and saw glass.

Glass?

Then the sarcophagus opened. Cool air rushed into the stale, old casket.

Sirrus gasped and sat up, breathing madly, clutching the side of the sarcophagus in disorientation. Everything was blurry and unfocused, and while it was slowly growing sharper, it wasn't clearing fast enough. This wasn't Dream, because he felt something solid under his hands. This was Serenia.

He stood up, stepped out of the casket, and managed about two steps before his legs gave out and he collapsed to the floor. A moment later the pain hit, lancing up his legs and his shoulder, around his neck, hand, even eyelids. It seemed there wasn't a bit of him spared from pain, and it was worse when he tried to move.

He closed his eyes and did nothing for a few moments. There had to be a logical explanation for this.

The transfer. Had something gone wrong? Had it even worked?

When the pain subsided, he opened his eyes again. He took a deep breath and pushed himself up into a sitting position.

Sirrus raised a hand and stared at it. It was longer, veined, calloused…yes, calloused from twenty years of working with rock and crystal. He lightly touched the back of his head, and his hair was longer than it was before, but not as long as Yeesha's, and not pulled back in the braid that trailed down his back for so many years.

He could move his arms now. It meant the transfer worked.

Sirrus smiled, even though that hurt his face. He stood up and managed a few shaky steps, then climbed the stairs, panting the whole way. How long would it take his body to get used to motion again? The sarcophagus was supposed to take care of that, sending electrical impulses through the muscles as well as keeping the rest of the body breathing and in stasis. He wondered if there was something he missed, but quickly dismissed that. He was sharper years ago than now.

Yeesha's body hung limp in the chair. Sirrus walked over to it and examined it, lifting up the hand that was burned by the knife handle a few days before. The scar was still there, but never on his hand, just hers. He took the necklace off her and put it in his pocket, not knowing what he'd do with it but keeping it on instinct. Her eyes were closed, her lips slightly parted in a gasp of death.

_Were you ever my sister?_

_Only in name._

There was no time to be sentimental. The transfer would no doubt have alerted the remaining sisters, and they would be in Dream or on their way here to discover what had happened. He was sure that the spirits of Anya and Yannin would have too, and…no, the echoes of the Protector's cries remained firmly rooted in Yeesha's memories, and all he could see were images of their bodies.

Sirrus stood and looked around once more, feeling slightly nauseated and having a touch of vertigo from suddenly being taller. His loose hair fell to his shoulders and he shook his head in annoyance, promising to bind it back as soon as he made it back to Tomahna. But first he had to get rid of that stone.

It was quite simple. He had stashed several crystal bombs in the sarcophagus years ago in case anything went wrong. He took one of them out and tossed it at the stone, and a high whine and flash of green followed and then the stone was no more. He gathered up the rest of the bombs carefully and then left the chamber, walking as quick as his tired new legs would carry him back to the cave. He heard screams in the distance, followed by shouts of alarm, and the bell started ringing. Soon, he knew, Serenia would no longer be able to access Dream, and after that, there would be chaos, and madness, and perhaps people would start attacking each other, or tearing the memory flowers to pieces. He had seen such chaos a thousand times before on a thousand other Ages, and usually…the bell rung harder and louder…and usually around this time he and Achenar would link out, back to Myst, and smile grimly at their accomplishment.

"I kept up the dream, brother," Sirrus said. He waited a moment and then linked back to Tomahna.

He wished he had more time. He wished he thought about it more. He wished he didn't have to make half a dozen decisions like this in the span of only two days. He wanted to stay in Tomahna for a few more, because it was such a beautiful place, and he wanted to write the crags of the cliffs and the bugs that flew around the lights at night.

_You can, idiot, _he told himself. You didn't spend the last six years learning to Write for nothing. You could link to an entirely new Tomahna, one that is completely yours and doesn't have memories hanging around it. You can write warm breezes anywhere and find an Age with eternal summer nights.

Possibilities, Sirrus. You didn't come this far just to not use them.

The Great Tree of Possibilities. That is what father called it.

Sirrus would have to train his new hands to write. They were not used to the careful, elegant D'ni letters. But he knew he could do it.

One last thing to do. He walked through Tomahna, pulling the levers and making his way across it until he came to father's study. He tore the pages out of the Serenia book and left them scattered about, finally tossing the cover somewhere to the right. He ripped open the drawers and broke equipment and tore levers out of their sockets. Such a terrible tragedy to have befallen Tomahna. He took the crystal bombs and threw them around, watching as they exploded and bits of Tomahna fell into the water. There were cracks and canyons and destruction.

I had come back from Spire, he would tell the people of Releeshahn. Achenar had trapped me on a distant rock island and linked away, having every intention to kill Atrus and Yeesha and Catherine. I finally managed to get back to the linking chamber and link to Tomahna to see what happened, and this is what I find! How long has it been? What sort of terrible things happened here? Oh, if only I could have escaped sooner, I could have stopped Achenar from hurting these people! Oh, my family, my poor sister, my dear mother and father, what has happened to them?

Sirrus felt the tears spring to his eyes, and let them course down his cheeks. Then he pressed his hand to the Releeshahn panel.

He linked into the great hall where several people were milling about. They all turned to look at him, and he took several steps and then collapsed, sobbing on the ground. The people all ran to him, and one of them lifted up his face and gasped in surprise. Sirrus knew the people from Releeshahn knew what he looked like, for father kept a picture of him on his desk in Releeshahn and showed him to the people here, his dear son Sirrus, lost in Spire too many years ago while fighting off Achenar.

"Tragedy!" Sirrus cried. "So much death! So much destruction!" he clutched the robes of the person nearest to him desperately. "Please, help me!" he sobbed. "Please!"

"Whatever is the problem?" said an older guild member, and Sirrus recognized the symbol as this person being from the guild of cartographers.

"I found Tomahna," Sirrus gasped. "It's destroyed. All of it. I don't know where everyone is. I just managed to get back to it, and there's death, nothing but death and destruction and…and…"

"I know you," said a different guild member. "Atrus' son. Sirrus. But you died!"

"I almost did…there was a struggle…years ago…Achenar was on Spire…left me there…went back to…to…" And now he wasn't faking anymore, because he could hardly catch his breath and was sweating profusely. "Please help me," he begged the guildsmen and the other people nearby. Perhaps it was the shock of the transfer finally catching up to him, because he was dizzy and nauseous, and his hands started shaking madly. Blue spots popped into his vision, and his mouth stopped forming words, and he felt the last vestiges of consciousness dissipate as he collapsed on the stone floor, hearing words of confusion and bafflement from the people around him.

Welcome to Releeshahn, Sirrus, he thought he heard a voice say.


End file.
